Reluctant Remembrances
by Mallaithe
Summary: John 'acccidentally' runs into a familiar face in a Parisian bar. Warning end of CHP 5 on is full of crack FULL OF IT
1. Why Hello

**A/N opening drabble. :D Seems Methos and the Five knew one another at one point...hmmm _**

"Druitt, you bastard." The words didn't hold any real venom, which surprised John Druitt greatly.

"Miss me Ben?" He smirked.

"No." Ben replied smoothly. Ben was no more human than John.

"Ahh, I _am _wounded." John sneered and gestured at the bartender.

"He'll have whiskey, neat, best you've got." Ben ordered before John could speak. The bartender glanced at John, who then nodded minutely in acknowledgment.

Ben smiled neutrally at his one-time companion and raised his beer to him.

"What brings you here?" Ben murmured tightly.

"Work." John chuckled. Ben let out a bark of laughter and shook his head.

"Work? Right. Sure." Ben's voice is taught, sharp, razor wire.

"And you?"

"I live here, for now at least."

John accepted the drink and downed it without tasting it. He leaned forward and whispered in Ben's ear.

"Come now _Methos _let's not get off on the wrong foot, _again_." John murmured.

'Ben' flinched and flexed his jaw.

"Learn a lot if you know where to sniff." John said cheerfully as he leaned away and gestured at the bartender for a second drink.

Methos stared at his beer, face blank for a few seconds.

"Y'know I quite liked you, until your friend started sniffing around about the Ripper business and I did a little deduction of my own." He hissed spitefully at John.

"Oh that is rich. Are you going to call _me_ a killer?" John chuckled sourly turning slightly towards the immortal man. Methos glanced up at John, and for the first time, John saw the other man's real age reflected back at him. In spite of himself he felt a shiver crawl along his spine. Not fear or dread, but rather anticipation, eagerness.

"I've done what I've done, there's no man or woman alive with rights to judge me." Methos said very softly his accent slid from it's usual vaguely upper class British to a darker richer more common growl.

"That's not what I hear." John laughed richly. His eyes drifted over Methos, taking stock.

"How's your head? Still getting headaches?" Methos asked venomously, taking the offensive. John smiled, revealing his teeth and inclined his head in acquiescence. Methos had scored a point.

"I had a... chat with an old friend. Haven't felt this well in years." John admitted as he leaned into Methos' personal space. The heat from John's body warming Methos' pallid skin.

Methos stared hard at John. In the heady days of Victorian indulgence there may've been something between the men. Methos briefly thought of the poet Byron and the sordid activities surrounding their friendship. But time moved on and people changed, even him. He stood up and counted several bills from a wad in his pocket. He tossed them onto the bar and turned to leave.

"Don't be a stranger Ben." John called after him his voice it's customary growl. Methos ignored the parting shot and left the bar. The Parisian night spread before him endless opportunities awaiting, but he felt no interest. He resented John's intrusion. He'd been thinking of leaving Paris anyway, itchy feet, a healthy habit in an immortal. He couldn't really run from John, not for long. But, it was his privilege to meet his old friend on his own terms. The game had begun, the old dance. He would go to London.

John enjoyed his second drink savoring it's age and flavor. His phone rang.

"Yes Helen, he was here."

"London I should guess. No I'm having a rather fine drink...the bartender understands English and I am disinclined to leave."

"Very well." He hung up with a thin smile. Magnus' orders must be obeyed, he thought, but he had time...

* * *

Methos did not feel him coming, but then, he wouldn't. John may be very old and insane but he was not an immortal and therefore beyond Methos' abilities. Methos did smell John a moment before he struck.

John snaked an arm out to throttle Methos. Methos' – resenting such rough treatment- dodged the arm and lashed out at John's solar plexus. John – being John- teleported a few inches beyond Methos' reach and stood staring at him with a playful smirk.

"Oh you are annoying." Methos glared while the vaguest of smiles twitched his lips.

"Let's stop playing games shall we Ben?" The name and John's tone brought a flash of memory from nearly two hundred years past flaring to life before Methos' inner eye. A caress, a laugh, a need. Methos shivered and faced John, slowly he relaxed out of his fighting stance.

"Why are you here?" He asked, tone resigned but eyes calculating.

"Honestly? I was sent to find you." John admitted, he enjoyed watching Methos' think.

"Oh gods, is it Helen?" Methos half groaned half asked. Only Magnus could tame John, mad or no, and only Magnus could have any interest in Methos. Methos had no business with the Watchers, hadn't in at least a decade. The few immortals who knew him, by pseudonym or his actual name, had no interest in him at the moment. Which left dear Helen Magnus, ringleader _(lover)_ and meddler.

"Of course it's Helen, now, you can pack a bag and I can take us both, or you can pout and catch a flight.

"Go back to the bar. I'll be back in an hour." Methos sighed.

True to his word Methos arrived just under an hour later. John glanced at him but had the grace to hide his pleasure at so thoroughly invading the other man's world. Methos stood at the doorway until John strode toward him. He gripped Methos' arm at the elbow and as they left the bar he embraced the Methos almost tenderly. They vanished from sight, a brief ripple of almost liquid air hung in the dull light from the streetlamps, and then it too faded.

**A/N **M'kay. I have an outline, really, I do :D I'm thinkin about 20 chapters total hopefully most around this length mebbe longer. Short 'n sweet. Later chapters will be M. Hope you've enjoyed it.


	2. The Crux

Methos woke to full darkness. He cleaned up – including a thorough teeth brushing- and dressed in fresh clothes. A young man, hardly more than a boy, was sitting in the hallway. His height was hard to judge as he was sitting cross legged and had fallen asleep slumped in a heap. Methos smirked and tapped the boy's outstretched foot with his own.

The boy sat up abruptly and glanced around. Gaze settling on Methos he smiled broadly and got to his feet with the help of Methos' outstretched hand. The boy had a solid grip, calloused but strong hands, and dry palms.

"You must be Ben Johnson. Dr. Magnus asked me to wait for you." He said with a cheerful grin.

"Who are you?" Methos asked.

"Will Zimmerman I work with Dr. Magnus." Methos nodded studying the boy – no man, he looked young but there was a shadow in his eyes, he had seen too much to be called a boy.

"I see, where is Helen?"

"I'll take you to her, would you like any refreshment?"

"I'm fine." Methos said with a grin. Will returned the grin. Methos found himself warming to him. He had the look of an academic but his calloused hands hinted at a more physical lifestyle. Methos really wasn't hungry, in spite of his ordeal. He felt pleasantly empty, light, quick on his feet. He wanted to keep that feeling, keep that edge while he was in the home of his ... friends? Enemies? Employers? What were they to him?

"How'd you end up here Will?" Methos asked as Will led him further into the building.

"I used to work as a forensic psychologist with the police. I ran into some trouble with the brass and Dr. Magnus offered me a job. I was unhappy and looking at getting fired anyway so I figured why not. We've got a lot to see if you're up for it. " Will offered. Methos nodded and followed his tour guide.

Will showed Methos everything he was cleared to see and Methos naturally assumed there were more features and such that security forbade his knowledge of. He didn't mind, the less he knew the better for all concerned.

"You're not surprised Abnormals exist?" Will asked after concluding the tour.

"No, not especially, the number and variety are impressive but their existence isn't." Methos said with a small smile. They were settled into a comfortable sitting room waiting for John and Helen. Methos was beginning to suspect that young Will was feeling him out, preparing him or vetting him for something.

"Were you surprised?" Methos asked Will. Methos was sprawled on a couch Will sitting across from him, a low table between them. The decor was not at odds with the architecture although it was decided more modern.

"Very, although I shouldn't have been. My mother was murdered by an abnormal when I was a boy."

"I'm sorry to hear that Will." Methos sighed. No wonder the boy had such a way of seeing the reality of a person. Growing up alone, suspicious of everyone and with no real safety. He had managed to turn a survival skill into a purpose and an uncanny talent.

"It was a long time ago." Will said all but literally shrugging off the sentiment.

"Doesn't mean it hurts less. Have you found the perpetrator?" Methos continued.

"No. I mean maybe, but the memory is so garbled..." Will trailed off.

"I see." Methos said. He heard steps in the hall outside. Too light to be John's but likely too heavy for Helen.

_She moved like a dancer, graceful and gentle. She ran a hand along his jaw and across his chest before kneeling at his side. The fire popped and hissed as it settled. She leaned into him, her hand reaching behind and beyond him to lay more wood on the coals. Her lips inches from his own. Ben leaned down and kissed her, a chaste brotherly kiss at first until her lips parted under his and her free hand settled on his chest._

_"Helen what about John-" Ben asked breaking the kiss with a laugh._

_"What about me?" John asked with a smirk. He was still sprawled on the bed, naked now, the sheet he'd worn now wrapped around Helen as she knelt in Methos' arms._

"...heals all wounds."

"Sorry Will I didn't catch that." Methos said smiling to himself at the warm memory.

"They say time heals all wounds." Will repeated.

"A dangerous misconception Mr. Zimmerman. Time can allow wounds to fester as easily as heal them." Methos warned. As he finished speaking another man entered the room, slightly scruffy in appearance, dressed very casually and almost shy in demeanor.

"Henry it's good to see you." Will said warmly. The man grinned.

"I've been helping Magnus calibrate some of the new gear." Henry said and darted a glance at Methos. Methos stood smoothly, his feline grace inadvertently hinting at his strength. The newcomer seemed to shrink slightly, making himself less noticeable.

"I'm Ben Johnson, call me Ben." Methos said, surprised as the dusty name, the old wounded identity of Ben leapt to his lips.

"Oh you're the uh the guy who can't deal with teleporting right? Can't blame you." Henry said with a stammered laugh, he offered his hand to Methos. Methos shook it firmly. The man's grip was strong but skittish, strange.

"Henry is our resident technical genius." Will explained. Methos smiled.

"Every secret lair needs a technical genius, it's in the script." Methos said solemnly, he grinned at Henry and the other man's nervousness faded a hair.

"Dr Magnus mentioned that you were old friends. She implied that you might be older than you seemed." Zimmerman ventured.

"I appreciate your honest curiosity Mr. Zimmerman but I don't think my age is relevant at the moment." Methos said gently. He was annoyed that Zimmerman was stripping away so many of his defenses. This place, the décor, and the memories given new life, were making Ben Johnson more alive than Methos or Adam Pierson. He didn't want Ben Johnson to come back to life, he didn't want to deal with that fool right now.

"Oh do put away your paranoia Ben." Helen said. He had not heard her arrive. He'd been too distracted by Will and Henry. His eyes lit up at her. Just as John was now sporting a bald pate, Helen too had changed. Her hair had darkened to nearly black. Her expression was grave, she looked tired.

"Helen." He said warmly with a grin. She returned the smile, he rose and embraced her.

"Oh you've changed, just as beautiful, but so stern." He laughed and ran a thumb along her jaw while looking down into her intelligent eyes.

"You haven't Ben." She smiled and took his hand. Will was watching them entirely too closely. Methos wondered at her comment, of course he'd changed, hadn't he? Gods help him if Ben were all she saw in him.

"My name isn't Ben Helen, surely you've figured that out by now." He said quietly. She released his hand and walked to a desk occupying a corner of the sitting room.

"Of course I have, but I know you as Ben, unless you'd like me to use a different name?" She asked seriously. Methos looked at the others in the room. Gauged the enormity of the secrets they already guarded, considered the enemies they must have, and what information could be leaked.

"No, Ben Johnson is as good a name as any." He admitted. He should have given her one of his other numerous pseudonyms but having two names was already confusing. So, it would be Ben.

"I thought so." Helen said with a triumphant smile.

"I suppose we're waiting on Druitt?" Methos asked regaining his seat.

"Yes. Will stop staring." Helen admonished. The boy was still staring at Methos as though he were a word search.

"Dr. Magnus -"

"Ben is quite an enigma Will, but he's a friend. Now, please allow him to relax. He is a guest in our home." Her tone brooked no argument but was not a rebuke, not really, more a warning. Hold off for now Will, study him later Will. Methos' lip twitched in a near frown and anger flooded him for a moment.

"Oh hell Magnus, let him stare, tell me Will what have you observed about me so far? It's what you do isn't it? Observe, empathize, figure people out?" Methos demanded the seeping anger creeping into his tone. Will glanced at Helen and Methos registered her slight permissive gesture toward Zimmerman.

"You act like you're younger than you are, as young as you look, but you're older. You have an extremely bad reaction to teleportation, worse than anyone I know of which makes me think you're different from anyone I've met and seen teleport, maybe even an abnormal. Your clothing is casual and somewhat worn out but it is well made from high quality cloth. You are stronger and faster than you look, you hide your physique with baggy clothes, your hands are calloused, either you're a woodsman or a swordsman. Your speech patterns and body language are all over the place like someone playing different roles in a vaudeville show but much much subtler.."

"Shall he continue Ben?" Helen asked with a smile.

"Bloody hell, you've finally found a man with X-ray eyes Helen." Methos laughed. His anger was still there, lurking, waiting, but collared for the moment. Masked and superceded by frenetic joviality.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

"It's all right Will. I think Ben was trying to test you." Helen said a wicked glint in her eyes.

"Is this because of that time in Vienna? It was almost a hundred years ago Helen you can't possibly hold a grudge that long, it's not in your nature." Methos pouted theatrically. He allowed Ben to the forefront, let Adam, Methos, the Horseman, all of it drop away.

"You're immortal like Dr. Magnus?" Will asked eyes wide.

"Yes and no, yes immortal no not like Helen." Ben said cheerfully.

"What do you mean?" Will asked.

"Should I tell him?" He asked Helen. Helen frowned unsettled by his apparent attitude change.

"Do as you like, I think I'll see what's keeping John." She said distractedly and left after a troubled glance at Methos that caught Will's attention. Henry moved as though to follow her but Helen gestured for him to stay. He sighed and obeyed.

An awkward silence fell between the three men. Henry had made himself invisible while still staring at Methos.

"Henry relax I'm not going to hurt you." Ben laughed. Henry shrugged slightly embarrassed.

"Uh what are you?" Will asked carefully but tactlessly.

"Here I'll show you." Ben offered, he lifted the cuff of his pant's leg and retrieved a small fighting knife from his boot.

"Now, if I were to cut either of you it would take days or weeks to heal, in my case an injury usually takes seconds or hours to heal, sometimes days." As the last syllable left his mouth he plunged the knife through his palm. Henry and Will both winced and drew away in shock and disgust.

"What the hell dude! I don't need to see that!" Henry complained, color fading from his face.

"Will, hand me that bowl of potpourri please, I don't want to get blood everywhere. Now, if I removed this knife the wound will heal within seconds, please Will be good enough to examine the injury with the blade in place, satisfy yourself that it is real." Will studied Methos' face for a moment and then gently took the immortal's left hand and examined the knife and the wound. Methos held the bowl of dried flowers in his right hand under the wound.

"It's real." He said softly.

"Henry?"

"No thanks man I'm fine." He grumbled looking a bit sick.

"Thank you Will." Methos' voice was strained.

"Please pull it out and heal, I can see it hurts." Will insisted.

"It always hurts." Methos muttered low enough that he may've been talking only to himself. He set his jaw and pulled the knife free. Instantly pale blue sparks and streaks of what looked like tiny lightning bolts crawled over the injury and a few seconds later bloody but unmarred flesh had replaced the wound.

"Wow." Will said softly.

"Yes, well now that you know I am at least as freaky as Magnus I need your oath that you will not reveal what I am to anyone ever without my permission. What I am is a threat to others, or an opportunity. I don't want to be dissected or tortured because you let slip something you shouldn't really know to begin with." Methos demanded looking at both men.

"You got it man I swear it." Henry said immediately. Will after a moment's thought agreed as well.

Methos -no Ben, Methos was on vacation for awhile. Ben, bitter, eager, resentful, high strung, and dramatic was leading the band now; scrubbed his bloody palm against his jeans and relaxed. Steps in the hall heralded John and Helen's return. He stayed sprawled and relaxed as the duo entered. John was dressed as he had been earlier in the day, or perhaps the day before. Helen wore a black dress reminiscent of the garb she had grown to adulthood in but modernized. She nodded at the gathered men and took her seat at the desk. John stood at her elbow.

"Ahh de ja vu." Ben smirked.

"You look better." John said with a grin.

"I've always looked better than you." Ben laughed.

Helen glanced at Henry and Will, noting Ben's blood smeared jeans.

"Ben we need your help." Helen said softly.

"Ahh it's like that is it?" Ben asked with a lurid smirk. Henry shifted uncomfortably and Will blushed slightly. John's face darkened with anger. Helen simply sighed.

"Will, Henry, if you could excuse us, I think we'd better meet tomorrow for breakfast instead." She requested. The two men happily vacated the sitting room. Will exchanged a cryptic look with Helen as he left.

Ben stood languidly and stretched. He slunk toward Helen and John and sat on Helen's desk.

"Did I embarrass you in front of the help?" He asked.

"I didn't bring you here so that we could play games with a whorish fop." Helen snapped. Ben sneered at her.

"Yes well unfortunately that's who you've got, what would you like me to do for you? Or to you?" Ben asked eyes gliding from one to the other of his hosts, the same hungry gleam apparent for both. John took one step forward and wrapped his surprisingly strong hand around Ben's throat, clearing off Helen's desk and lifting the immortal off the ground.

"Why...didn't..you say...you liked...rough...sex?" Ben gasped around John's increasing grip. John released him and Ben dropped to his knees coughing and hacking.

"What is wrong with him?" John growled at Helen.

"I'm not sure, I think he's hiding behind his persona."

"We need Methos not this dandy." John said with contemptuous glare at Ben.

Ben caught his breath and got to his feet. Pain rocketed through him, John's contempt searing old injuries and ripping at half scabbed wounds.

"You needed the whore just as badly once John, we all did." Ben snarled hatefully.

_As John watched Ben slid his hands along Helen's bare arms, to her right fist, clutching the sheet. He kissed and sucked at her knuckles while gazing into her luminous eyes. John made a small sound and Ben glanced toward him. His face was filled with lust and jealousy- no not jealousy, envy. Ben smiled coldly at him and returned his attentions to Helen. Firmly but gently he pried her fingers apart and let the sheet fall. Her magnificent body shone gold in the firelight, her blonde curls catching the red of the flames._

_The fresh log shifted and settled with a hiss of complaint. Ben snaked one arm along her back pulling her even closer to him, the other gripped her fist firmly and pressed it between their chests as he kissed her hard. She froze for a moment, rigid against his body, jaws clenched, lips taught, free hand digging nails into his chest. Then she melted into him. Fist relaxing, pressing to his chest, gripping him. She leaned up and forward still kneeling but pressing into him, mouth hungrily seeking his. He sighed into her kisses and looked toward John. _

_Druitt left the warmth of the bed and knelt behind Helen. His strong hands lifting her hair from her neck he leaned close, breath tickling her cheek he tenderly kissed her neck and jaw. Still locked in a kiss with Ben she slowly broke the kiss and twisted into John's attentions. _

"I know what I am to you. I was a whore then a nice diversion, something to spice things up in bed now you want to use me again, you need me so you invade my life and bring me here. To use and discard." It was Methos speaking through Ben's pain now. John snarled and strode toward Methos as he knelt on the floral carpet.

"What is so important that you needed your whore again?" Methos snarled pain and resentment filling his words.

Helen was frozen, staring at the two men about to come to blows.

"You were no whore _Ben_ but an eager player-" John scoffed.

"Maybe at first but you knew what you were doing to me, you both did!"

_Dawn broke filling the room with pale light and bird song. Ben was asleep, no drunken pause between bouts but a full restful sleep. He was sprawled on the floor, head resting on John's chest, one arm casually tossed across the other man's waist. On the opposite side of John, Helen was curled against John's ribs, John's face buried in her curls both arms holding her close in sleep, protecting her._

John stared at Methos his expression uncomprehending. His fists were clenched ready to strike the other man.

"John stop!" Helen ordered. John looked at her and held his hand.

"I loved you both." Methos hissed. Helen's pained face told him all he needed to know.

"Christ, you knew it Helen, you _knew_ and you said nothing, you let it go on. I was a fool I ..." Suddenly ashamed and raw he turned away from them. Using the low table for support Methos got to his feet.

"Ben I'm so sorry I did not realize until it was far too late." Helen said rounding the desk and reaching for him. Methos glared at her and she froze at John's side.

"You loved us?" John asked disbelieving.

"Yes I loved you, _both_ of you. Gods I should've known better." He laughed bitterly. Helen shook off his glare and walked to him.

"Ben I loved you too in my way but my heart was John's you knew that when we met." She said stopping within arm's reach of him.

"You of all people Helen Magnus should realize that logic cannot rule the heart." He hissed. John looked startled and then sad at Methos' words. He glanced at Helen and saw pain in her eyes. Shame and regret filled him, remembering his own crimes. Slowly he lowered his fists. Magnus loved Druitt, even knowing what he was the Ripper, she had removed him from her life but her heart ached for him, loved him still.

"I am sorry old friend." Druitt murmured.

"Don't, don't call me that." Methos snapped at John rage in his eyes. He looked at them both and burst into laughter.

"I am older than both of you and here I stand blaming you for acting like children, blaming _you _for _my _mistake." He said sourly his rage fading like a crested wave.

"I have loved before, will again, but you two... you've lived longer than..." he broke off and shook his head. Helen glanced at John, John nodded once and was gone, shimmering air the only sign of his passage.

"You've never loved another of your kind? Someone who could live as long as you?" Helen asked stepping close to him.

He thought of Kronos, of bronze and blood, of a war bride and regret. His face twisted in pain.

"Did the one you love die?" She asked gently, trying to understand.

Again he saw Kronos, saw the rage on his face as Methos' final betrayal grew clear, he saw Cassandra fleeing across a desert. Saw her face twisted with loathing and disgust centuries later.

"What do you know about me?" He demanded rage rising once again. Magnus might be nearly 160 years old but she did not have to live life knowing she might have to behead a friend or lover just to keep living. She had not outlived 68 wives and more children than he had ever had the heart to count.

"Not enough. I know I 've wronged you Ben, but I need you, John needs you." She said sadly tears in her eyes.

"Didn't he teach you how he likes to fuck?" Methos demanded lewdly, voice choking with spite. She slapped him, hard enough to draw blood, the injuries glittered with blue lightning and vanished seconds later. She gasped at the sight. He wiped away the trickles of blood and glared at her. She knew he could survive injury, had watched him revive from death itself but had not witnessed the process.

"I don't care what you want you had no right to force me here." He whispered moving away from her touch.

"It's for my daughter, our daughter, John's and I." She pleaded moving closer to him again.

Methos laughed then a desolate, ashen sound.

"As far as I know for most of the last hundred years John has been a homicidal maniac, was that a turn on for you?" He asked gripping her wrists in one hand, preventing her from touching him again.

"I found out I was pregnant shortly after his crimes were revealed. I had the embryo removed and frozen. I was lonely so I had her twenty odd years ago." She hissed and wrenched her wrists free.

"You know for sure she's John's?" He asked quietly.

"Yes." she said firmly though her tone quavered.

"My species are sterile Helen you need not worry about me." He growled dismissively. He turned away from the relief in her face, sickened by the urges he felt toward her. Fuck or fight, he thought bitterly.

"Why me?" He asked quietly, fists clenched at his sides.

"She is innocent of hurting you-"

"Tell me why you need me. Don't tell me about the girl, she doesn't interest me." He interrupted coldly. He was carefully packing Ben and his wounds away.

"She was captured by an organization called the Cabal, they somehow forced her to manifest John's gift and then brainwashed her into joining them. She stole the last vial of pure vampire blood and teleported to the Cabal." Helen said tightly.

"John can teleport, why me." He asked calmly. Methos faced Helen now, the pain and rage of Ben had been addressed and was now locked away. An expression flickered across Helen's face too fast for Methos to register properly. Doubt? Confusion? Surprise?

"Henry has managed to find the likeliest location for the vial and Ashley. Easter Island. But the security system literally kills anyone who attempts to access their facility."

"You want me to die getting through and revive on the other side?" Methos asked.

"Only long enough to disable the security system so that we can get in."

"You're asking me to die for you." He mused studying her face. She was desperate he could see that, she was also honest, had always been honest. Except maybe toward the end.

"She's my daughter Ben." A mother's plea. He closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them slowly, almost glaring at her.

"What is one more mortal to me Magnus? You all die." He said coldly.

"If we can get her out we can retrieve the blood as well. The Cabal have engineered a virus, it attacks abnormals drives them insane and then kills them -"

"That's why you retrieved the vial, to stop the virus? Who did they infect? Henry? John? Your precious protege? They played you Helen, captured your prized possessions, now you want me to die and likely kill to get them back for you? I don't owe you that much Helen." He sighed and ran a hand over his face. He was hungry, thirsty, exhausted.

"Ben-"

"What about Tesla? I'm sure he's lurking somewhere making moon eyes at you." Methos snapped, frustrated with her pleas.

"He has refused to help."

"How shocking of him, a man of his moral leanings abandoning a friend" he sneered, "and the rest of the Five?"

"James died after we retrieved the blood and Nigel's granddaughter is not suited for the job." Helen said stiffly.

"If I agree I want you to leave me alone Helen, forever." Methos said firmly. She looked stunned. He stepped close to her and held her hands in his.

"I truly loved you once, I know that was a foolish and unforgivably stupid thing to do, I knew better but there it was. I know that what John was... I know you loved him even while you condemned him. I know that you would have killed him if you could. I don't know what's cured his madness...He's changed, he's tired, full of pain and regret. Love him for me Helen since I cannot give either of you what you need give it to one another. Forgive him, trust him if you can. There's no place for me here. The place I thought I once had was a fantasy, the place I could have is a joke. If I do this, let me go. " He said softly. He did not tell her that he too had loved John in spite of his madness and cruelty, loved her as she locked herself away and vanished from him. Loved them both now as much as Ben ever had.

Her looming tears fell, coursing down her cheeks and splashing onto their clasped hands.

"You'll help us save Ashley?" She asked voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes I suppose I will." He sighed.

"Then I will leave you alone Ben, I'll never bother you again." The relief in her voice, teetering on joy, clawed at him.

**A/N **I whumped Methos. I am not sorry. _


	3. Island

The ship pitched and rocked sickeningly. The sea swelled and roiled with a vigor bordering on the malicious. Methos leaned against the hip high rail circling the deck. The sea rotted paint of the rail rough under his palms, cool with spray and the unrelenting sea wind. His grip was so tight his knuckles were white, even the quick of his nails were bloodless.

"Relax, you aren't doing yourself any favors." Will said gently. Methos glared at the mortal.

"Until you've crossed the Atlantic in a rowboat with a handful of fanatics and no facilities keep your opinion to yourself." Methos hissed. Will frowned but didn't reply. Instead he stayed close to the miserable immortal.

As Methos' stomach calmed in spite of the unchanging weather he straightened and relaxed his grip on the rail. They were a few hours from Easter Island. He knew the plan. Knew that they would lie in wait offshore until nightfall and then move close enough to launch a dinghy with himself and John aboard. They were erring toward caution, it was conceivable that the Cabal had studied John's ability closely enough to set up a defense against it similar to what Helen had devised. Or at least, manage to alert the facility that a teleporter was nearby.

They dropped anchor and waited. Methos shivered as his sweat dried in the chill wind. His nausea faded as the cargo ship's engines shut down. Will remained at his side, quiet and apparently content to remain quiet.

"All right, out with it." Methos sighed glancing at Will.

"I don't think you should go to the island."

"Your friend's life depends upon me going to the Island." Methos muttered.

"What good will it do if you go there and get killed or captured? She'll still be a prisoner only you'll be dead or locked up with her."

"What do you suggest instead?" Methos asked with a smirk. Will frowned.

"I'm coming with you."

"You're very smart Will, but John and I have abilities you don't, either of us has a better chance at surviving there than you do."

"No you don't. Not right now, you're distracted, besides I might be able to see something, a way around the perimeter or through it that won't require getting you killed to circumvent." Will insisted.

"No Will."

"You don't have a choice." Will said softly, jaw set.

"I always have a choice, I won't let you on that Island Will. If you want me to help you retrieve Ashley you'll stay here." Methos growled. Will stared back at him unafraid and determined.

"I'm not asking to infiltrate the perimeter."

Methos leaned away from the rail. Boots scraping across the rough deck he slowly strolled toward the hatch leading down into the ship's hold. Fuck it, he thought, fuck it and them, let the kid come along and get shot, what did it matter in the end?

"Come on you'll need a weapon." He said over his shoulder. Will nodded shortly and followed.

Death, even for an immortal, was not something anyone wanted to experience unnecessarily. If Will could find a way around the perimeter without requiring Methos' death so much the better. John was in the hold already. He watched as Methos strapped on his hardware and took the time to arm Will.

"You're bringing the boy?" John asked softly.

"Have you ever died John?" Methos asked sharply. John stared hard at Methos, Methos handed Will an automatic handgun.

"I don't recommend it." He said softly as he looked over Will. "If Will can find a way in fine, if not he can hang back and back us up if we hit trouble."

"Ben-"

"Stop calling me that John. It isn't my name." Methos said finally facing John. John studied him for a moment.

"You are content with this Dr. Zimmerman?" He asked Will.

"I insisted."

Methos made his way back up to the deck ignoring John's palpable stare. An uncomfortable silence descended on the hold.

"Why?" John asked carefully.

"Because he doesn't trust you anymore. He might think he does, he might even believe it, but he doesn't. If he has to trust you to get out of their alive one or both of you could die."

"Does he trust you?"

"No, but he believes me." Will said heading for the ladder to the deck.

"Will." John said softly. Will paused and looked back at John. He did not trust or like John Druitt, but he had a duty to Magnus and the Sanctuary.

"Can he trust me again, will he?"

"I don't know. I don't think he realized how badly he was hurt by your relationship until now. He's old Druitt, he literally locks away parts of himself in order to keep going forward and survive."

"You're saying that everything that happened, all that pain, he's just now feeling it?"

"Maybe, I think he brushed it aside but now it's come back."

John was silent, thinking it over.

"You need to convince him to bottle it away again."

"I can't do that. That tactic isn't working anymore, if it were he would have been able to interact with you normally. I'll do what I can but you can't put too much pressure on him, let him get you in and then get him out."

"Magnus was right to recruit you." John said finally and pushed past Will to the ladder.

Night fell and the dinghy set out. The three men were silent. Will shivered slightly in the cold damp air. He watched Methos' passive face as the immortal studied the looming shoreline. A slight tick in the immortal's jawline, tension around his eyes, and the occasional wetting of his lips all indicated to Will that Methos was far from calm. Druitt also displayed signs of tension. Will shifted and settled into his spot on the rudimentary bench of the dinghy.

"We're nearly there, five minutes." John murmured, the other men nodded.

"When we arrive stick together, stay silent, we chose the least secure access point but there may be sentries." John growled and cut the engine. He handed Methos an oar and the duo started to row to shore.

The beach was smooth and ended abruptly in a grass field. The trio beached their dinghy and did their best to hide it. Moving inland they were nearly silent, moving quickly Will and Methos followed John until he gestured to hold.

"The perimeter is five hundred feet ahead, Will see if you can spot a weakness." John requested. He exchanged a glance with Methos. The immortal's gaze was critical and calculating. He shadowed Will as the boy crept closer to the perimeter.

Will crouched and studied the landscape below. The perimeter looked like a simple steel cable fence. A figure on a dual sport motorbike patrolled it casually spurting from one section to another. It paused at every section and scanned the area outside the fence.

"Looks like he's got night vision." Will sighed.

"I thought you were a genius, figure it out." Methos snapped. Will frowned and kept studying the layout.

"There's a few seconds when he's distracted by the bike, right before he heads to another section." Will said. Methos nodded and started to rise, John put a hand on the immortal's arm. Methos flinched minutely and John withdrew his hand.

"The sentry is not the problem." John said softly. Methos frowned.

"I don't want to know John, crossing the fence will kill me, I know that. Just...let me do this." He whispered staring at the fence. John stared at the artery in Methos' neck, watched it jump and twitch with the immortal's pulse. He was afraid. It had never really occurred to John that Methos could be afraid of death. The man was ancient, had slaughtered hundreds, probably thousands but he was afraid to die? Even knowing he would come back? Shame swept through John for a heartbeat. He had wronged Methos, put him on an impossible pedestal.

"I will come for you." John said gripping the immortal's bicep and staring hard at him. Methos nodded slightly and shrugged John's hand away. He looked at Will and waited until the younger man nodded once.

He shot toward the fence like a rabbit fleeing a pack of hungry hounds. He hit the cable and vaulted over it. As his body reached the apex of the arc over the fence he went rigid and dropped bonelessly to the ground on the other side. Dead.

"What-"

"Quiet." John snarled cutting off Will's question.

An agonizing half hour passed. John was rigid with tension Will's soft assurances were the only thing preventing him from trying to teleport to Methos' body and retrieve him. Finally slowly they saw movement.

"Did you see?" John asked not finishing the question.

"It might just be a cloud passing the moon." Will cautioned not daring to hope.

As they watched Methos writhed in what looked like pain then went still again. Finally he rose to his knees and waved languidly toward John and Will. He staggered away from the perimeter toward the compound.

"He's hurt." Will muttered.

"The ship will radio us when the energy signature around the perimeter changes, I'll teleport in for Be-Methos. You should head to the beach, wait with the dinghy." John suggested. Will studied John for a moment.

"You have to wait until the perimeter goes down John, if you go in before that you'll die and he'll be trapped-"

"Save your sentimentality boy, I will not die for him, neither will I allow him to die." John growled.


	4. Breach

Breaching the compound was child's play. The Cabal's perimeter was so difficult to breach that only minor security precautions were utilized inside it. Locked doors and security cameras, no living guards he could see. Methos body ached and throbbed, his Quickening felt strange, almost drunk. Edgy and unhappy with his trip so far he took his time getting to the compound.

He spotted a door and waited for another half hour before moving in. He felt slightly better but not up to fighting anyone. He was hoping stealth and cunning would be good enough. Methos ghosted through the night, the knee high seagrass clawing at his clothing as he approached the door. The grass could slice exposed flesh if given a chance, it scraped loudly across his heavy dark clothing.

The lock was expensive but easily picked. He slipped inside and blinked as he was assaulted by flourescent lights. The low hum of the ballast in the lights pierced his skull like rusty nails. His Quickening still felt wrong and the lights weren't helping. He licked his lips and squinted against the light.

He was standing in the entrance of a long hall, it was straight as an arrow and ended in a dead end. Three doors were located sporadically down the length of it. Moving smoothly Methos approached the first. It was steel, solid, and windowless. He picked it quickly and entered ready to bluster and bullshit or fight. It looked like a server room. Racks of RAID hard drives and the low hum of fans greeted him. A gleeful smile of destruction creased his tight features. He fished in his pocket and pulled out a small explosives kit.

It wouldn't take much to turn the state of the art room into a mass of cinders and toxic smoke. He carefully placed several small explosives and set the timer to trigger a slow burn in twenty minutes. He cracked the door and peered out. The hall was still empty. He slipped out and hurried to the next door.

Methos again picked the lock and slipped inside. This time darkness greeted him, darkness and a familiar almost fruity smell. Hop's gun oil. He carefully felt around the doorframe for a light switch. Wincing in the light he let out an appreciative whistle. Racks of pristine weaponry greeted him. He actually wet his lips and drifted forward. He didn't have much time but these weapons were state of the art and incredibly expensive. He carefully selected two very nice handguns and an assault shotgun. He grabbed a shoulder holster and a thigh holster for the handguns and extra clips and shells. He had brought little more than knives with him. He had worried about being discovered dead, most of his personal armament would pass a casual inspection but being found dead with obvious weaponry was another story.

Feeling relief at being properly armed and with one last door to face he quickly entered. This time he waited for his eyes to adjust. Finally the light leaking from the door behind him allowed him to see the outline of his surroundings. He was at the top of a flight of stairs. A thrill of fear shot along his spine.

If _he_ had designed a super-secret bunker, he would insure there was only one point of entrance. He would set up booby traps and passwords to make any attempt to enter both difficult and deadly. He thought about the server room and the explosives he had rigged. He had five minutes before systems started crashing. Methos could wait five minutes and use the burning server room as a distraction, or he could wait five minutes and hope that the crippled servers brought down the perimeter. His third option would be to follow the staircase to it's terminus.

He backed up and re-entered the hallway. He drew his hand guns and flipped off the safeties. He would wait for John, but he would keep an eye on the stairway and the exterior door. If anyone else came through he wasn't going to wait for them to sound an alarm or realize who he was. He thought back to the photo John and Magnus had made him study.

A blond girl, ice blue eyes, extremely straight bright blond hair. Muscular, fierce, and beautiful. Her height was hard to judge but he would guess near Magnus' or maybe taller. He wouldn't shoot her unless he had to, but he was returning to the freighter with John and Helen's daughter. Whether the brat liked it or not.

Four and a half minutes later four armed personnel burst into the hallway from outside. They wore combat helmets with visors and body armor. He couldnt' tell if they were male or female. He didn't dare shoot to kill in case the Cabal had flipped Ashley and sent her after him. He aimed for knees and elbows, painful, probably crippling but not fatal. The first two dropped with gargled shrieks, the second two fired before falling. The first enemy shot went wide the second was high and caught Methos' collarbone. He let out a strangled cry of frustration and pain.

He wouldn't be able to set the shattered bone properly himself, it would heal badly and be a mobility issue as well as bloody painful until he could set it. Grinding his teeth he fought the adrenaline and pain fueled urge to kill the last guard. Instead he pulled each of the four's helmets off and checked their faces against his mental copy of the photo. No go.

Wincing he tore at his shirt to check the bullet wound. It was still oozing but the bone was beginning to set and the flesh soon knit itself whole with the help of his Quickening. The light of it had changed somehow, it was more white than blue and stung like peroxide as it did its work. He shook off the fear that crawled over him at the sight and feel of his apparently damaged Quickening and shushed the wounded Cabal soldiers.

"Quiet or I'll make you quiet." He growled, the whimpering and cursing muffled. He moved back to the door to the staircase and listened. He could hear footsteps, heavy, probably wearing boots. He stepped back from the door and waited.

The steps paused at the door. A heartbeat later the door flew open and he drew a bead. Ashley was standing there. Her face was bloodied, her bright blue eyes looked crazed and even bluer amidst the blood. She was holding a knife, a bloody knife.

"My name is Methos, your parents sent me for you." He said not lowering his gun. She stared at him. Her tongue snaked out and licked her dry lips, sweat stood out on her skin along with the blood.

"Druitt is waiting for us, is the perimeter down?"

She nodded once.

"Are you alone?" He asked. Again she nodded. He lowered his weapon and nodded toward the still open door to the outside. He allowed her to take point and followed her at a cautious distance. He was doing his job, getting her out, but he didn't trust her as far as he could throw a buffalo.

Dawn was breaking as they left the compound. Methos moved closer to Ashley. The girl moved like a soldier, she was fast and surprisingly quiet in the long grass.

As they approached the perimeter Methos shot a sour look at Ashley.

"You're sure the perimeter is down?"

"Yes, I'm positive."

"I only ask because the last time it killed me." Methos growled. His comment seemed to break her fugue.

"Died?" She asked skeptically.

"Yep, hurt like hell too, so the perimeter _is _down?" He asked again, his voice was hard and tight. He had to know if it was down, he couldn't risk getting killed like that again, he couldn't risk her life. She studied him for a moment and then looked away, toward the fence.

"Yeah it's down they were going to move me, they turned it off and … it's down." She was looking down, at the red blood on her hands. Her eyes brimmed with tears for a moment, then her jaw flexed and she squared her shoulders and stared at him. He put a hand on her shoulder and gently squeezed. The pressure dragged her thoughts back to the present. She shrugged his hand away with an annoyed expression.

"I'll go first-"

"No, I will, if they've turned it back on you won't survive."

"Look dude, you're a mess-"She started to argue staring at his mangled shoulder.

"I got in here didn't I?

She scowled and folded her arms in annoyance. Methos stomped toward the perimeter fence, irritated with himself for insisting that he go first, irritated with John and Helen, irritated with the scared kid behind him, so irritated he almost didn't feel afraid.

He took a deep breath and reached for the fence.

**A/N Sorry for the late post folks but here 'tis. I do intend to finish :) Thank you as always for reading and feel free to applaud or bitch with equal apolomb :D P.S. herein marks the end of sanity and proofreading. You've been warned... (I have 2 jobs, a full class load, and a plate of yummy RL to boot so...yeah... sorry)**


	5. No Good Deed

This time he didn't feel it before it dropped him. No pain, no tingling, just nothingness. He came to a few feet away from the fence on the ocean side. The salt breeze felt like ice on his cheek. He blinked, or rather he tried to blink. He was mostly paralyzed, he could feel and hear his heart beat, feel the wet sea air racing through his nostrils but he couldn't make himself move. Somewhere he could hear sea birds calling and waves.

A face loomed into his line of sight, blond, slightly rounded, crystal clear blue eyes in a mask of blood with too-white teeth gleaming between pert lips. His mind gibbered at him that he knew that face and it was important to protect it. He tried to move again and felt his finger shift. He was sprawled on the coarse seagrass, fingers buried in the sandy soil.

Voices boomed at him like storm driven waves on rocks, warbling and indecipherable. One higher than the other, the two tones dancing and darting around each other like siamese fighting fish. He laughed, or thought he did. Hands were on him. Grips that were rough and bruising, too tight and savage with speed.

Suddenly the world flipped and he was racing across the grass, his shadow turning day to evening, a premature colorless sunset. Blood rushed to his dangling head while his arms and legs stuck out like inarticulate cries for help. Propelled by those same clawing hands.

He laughed again, this time he heard the soft sigh of mad joy before the wind snatched it. The seabirds were still crying and wheeling overhead, drifting down an unseen drain. The premature night faded and flared into a sharp blinding dawn. Water, dancing, bright and dangerous splashed inches below him and then the sky appeared again. And a new face with a new voice.

"Methos?" A soft distant blow rocked his vision and the new face moved away. He was rising and floating and then surrounded by warmth and the ground was gently drifting and rocking under him, and in the end nothing else mattered much. He drifted into the lurking gray and was still.

"...full recovery."

His eyes flickered feverishly and finally snapped open. He panicked and sat up too fast. Head swimming and vision still adjusting he reached out reflexively for an enemy. Someone gripped his wrists firmly and a calming voice broke through his panic.

"You're okay you're at the Sanctuary." As Methos' eyes adjusted he realize it was Will. He was holding Methos' wrists and attempting to keep his head on his shoulders as Methos flailed to free himself.

"What happened?" Methos asked slowly sitting up. Will released his wrists and helped him sit upright.

"The perimeter was kicking back on when you went over the second time." Will said and let Methos get his balance and then helped him drink a small amount of water.

"The girl?"

"She's okay she went over a few seconds after you, something about your body interacting with the field interrupted it long enough for her to cross safely."

"Splendid." Methos sighed sourly.

"Take it easy you've been out for a few days. It looks like the field reset your body's electrical field."

"A biologically focused E.M. Pulse?"

"Basically, only the pulse is somehow looped to be a continous charge."

"Clever." Methos admitted. His head was pounding like he'd been drinking vodka for three days straight. The light in the infirmary was stabbing his retinas. Will dimmed the lights. The claws trying to blind him finally drew back.

"Where's Magnus?"

"She's here, she's on her way in, we were getting worried about you."

"I heard someone talking-"

"That was me talking to Magnus on my cell." Will assured him. Methos nodded distractedly. He had only been in the Sanctuary infirmary for a few minutes during the initial tour but something felt off. He got to his feet and frowned at his paper gown.

"Will?" He asked.

"Oh yeah sorry I'll get some clothes for you."

Methos shivered in the cool air as Will left. Something felt off, nothing obvious but something was...tweaked. He closed his eyes and concentrated on remembering his tour. The molding along the ceiling... it had been a different pattern. More geometric with hard edges than the scalloped molding now in place.

_ "He's noticed."_

_ "You can't be sure."_

_ "Yes, I can, pull your head out of your ass and you can too." _

_ "Assuming you're right, what now?"_

_ "We wait and watch, he might not be sure."_

_ "So we do nothing?"_

_ "We take a day to be sure, that's all."_

_ "What if it goes wrong?"_

_ "It won't."_

He ate a small meal after he dressed. The food tasted fine but he didn't finish the meal, he was concerned about drugs but he could feel his weakness and knew he needed to eat. The more he studied the infirmary the more slight differences he noticed. Will returned to take Methos' plate.

"Any word from Magnus?"

"She should be down soon." Will said with a smile. Methos had been studying the boy and was convinced he really was Will. Why he had not realized something was very wrong with their situation he wasn't sure.

"Hey Will...how's Ashley?"  
"She's doing well, she wants to see you when you're feeling better."

"Why?"

"She wants to thank you. Look it's not often a complete stranger involves himself in the Sanctuary and it's even rarer that Ashley gets into a situation that she can't get herself out of."

"So I beat her?"

"Yeah I guess, in a way."

The door opened and Magnus entered. She seemed legitimate as well. Methos frowned but kept his suspicions to himself. Maybe he was seeing things, maybe the E.M. Field had damaged some of his memories. Maybe, but his instincts didn't buy it. He'd lived five thousand years listening to those instincts. He'd keep listening for now.

"Helen." He said neutrally. She smiled broadly at him and sat on the edge of his bed. He was sitting cross legged leaving plenty of room.

"Thank you Ben."

"I'm not-"

"Yes you are, part of you somewhere in there is Ben. So thank you. You didn't have to help us."

"That part of me you so admire did. Are we done?" He asked standing.

"Ashley was hoping to speak with you."

"That's sweet but I don't care. I did it for you and John and because you made a promise. Now I have a life of my own I'd like to get back to." He said softly sliding off the bed. He could see his familiar Ivanhoe in a rack near the door. He strode toward it and as his hand wrapped around the familiar handle he felt himself relax minutely. It was familiar and well worn. He had killed with it yes, but more often he had defended himself and run.

He wasn't a coward, but any combat situation had an element of chance. Why would he risk his life on the offchance of a wet floor or some similar element of bad luck when he could simply run away? He was a competent fighter, had proven that over time but he preferred living to killing. At least now he did.

"Methos-"

It was John. Methos flinched at the voice, it was such a slight reflexive movement that only John caught it. Will was across the room speaking with Magnus.

"I'm leaving John. Now." He said firmly. John nodded once.

"I can take you."

"Have any dramamine?" Methos asked with a small smile. He couldn't hate John. The man had never known what he was doing to 'Ben'. That Magnus had realized it too late made no difference in the end. He offered John his hand, Druitt gripped it firmly at the wrist and a split second later the Sanctuary was gone.

There was no nausea this time. Methos opened his eyes and found himself alone with John in a wide white room. One wall looked like glass but was probably some kind of plastic. The floor was tiled neatly with a slight slope toward a drain in the center of the room. The walls were also white and appeared to be seamless, the ceiling as well. Methos suspected there was a door somewhere there had to be.

"I'm sorry." John said releasing Methos' forearm. Methos glared at him.

"I should have cut your throat in Paris." Methos hissed and reached for John, he knew it was futile, even as his fingertips brushed Druitt's lapels the man teleported away.

Methos was a prisoner.


	6. Twist

He paced, he calculated complex equations, he plotted an Asian land invasion, he tried to remember every recipe involving walnuts he'd ever come across, he did push ups, he yelled pointlessly for awhile, he practiced various languages he wasn't entirely sure he remembered correctly, he sang, he did limited gymnastics and katas with his sword. (the fact that he had been allowed to keep the blade did not encourage him in the slightest) Eventually he slept.

Methos slept sitting up in a corner with his blade across his knees. The only non-white or transparent surface in his room was a too-bright light that was never turned off. The light was in the middle of the ceiling and it glared at him like a pissed off supernatural eye. The window wall was indeed plastic. Out of curiosity he had tried to batter it with the pommel of his sword but had succeeded only in leaving a shallow scratch on the surface of the plastic. Across from his room was another room that appeared identical to his. It was unoccupied and the light was always left on as well. He could see a door to one side of the glass wall.

"Hello? Bored yet? 'Cause I bloody well am." He started out shouting and trailed off into a sigh. Really there was no point to being upset. What was, was. He was a prisoner and it looked like he would be one until whoever was in charge decided to change that. Of course knowing that and actually accepting that were two very different things.

He sat back in his corner and closed his eyes. The light was bright enough to penetrate his eyelids so he threw an arm over his eyes. He wasn't tired. He could exercise more but he hadn't eaten or had anything to drink in what had to be at least a day.

He wondered why he hadn't been sick after John teleported him, wondered why he had been so sick when John normally teleported him. He thought about the island, the girl, the troops, the E.M field, the whole venture. He thought about the Five and his minor role in their grand tale. What had he been thinking?

For centuries he had kept to himself, been incognito, done his level best to avoid other immortals altogether or befriend them. So what does he do at the first opportunity? Join up with a band of rebel scientists with superpowers. Brilliant. And, as if that weren't enough, he fell in love with not one but two of them. Gods what the hell was wrong with him?

Loneliness, a little goblin whispered in his head.

"Fuck that." He growled surprising himself with the volume and venom of his voice. He ground his teeth and rubbed his eyes.

He remembered the John and Helen he had known, even Tesla had been somehow more innocent then. John and James had been fast friends and even Nigel had been a pleasant if lightfingered companion. Now all but John and Helen were dead, apparently Nigel's descendant had inherited his gift for whatever good it would do him or her. James, that was a real loss, the man had been brilliant before the vampire blood and after he had been a force of nature. Will reminded Methos of him, the way he had of seeing things and intuitively concluding.

He blew out a sigh. "Seriously, if you want to make me batty there are easier ways, I can tell you some." he suggested to his cell walls.

He ground his teeth and let out a sigh, this was insane he was letting them win. He knew better than this. He closed his eyes and drew his arm across them again.

Methos focused on something less aggravating than the myriad indiscretions of his apparently perpetual youth. You'd think he would learn after awhile. Ha, sure. Like anyone really learned. He broke off that train of thought as well, there was no point to it and it was getting him worked up again.

Finally he decided on meditation. He slowed his metabolism, something he should have done immediately, and focused on relaxing and resting while staying alert enough to react to anyone entering his cell.

Time passed, unsteady like an old film projector, skipping, slowing, speeding up and dropping away altogether.

"Mr. Pierson." The voice was male and ageless. It could be a man of thirty or four hundred, unnaturally accentless. Methos opened his eyes. The cell was empty, no obvious source for the voice presented itself.

"Mr. Pierson."

"What? By the way? Not my name thanks for playing." Methos groused. And flung his arm back over his face. The voice seemed to be coming from the light. Nice touch.

"Mr. Pierson, we have a proposal for you."

"Not my name you have the wrong guy, lemme go now, thanks." He snapped in a sing-song.

"Mr. Pierson."

"Fine! Look, if you want to talk to me, at least take your ass down here so we can chat through my fabulous see-through wall." He sighed. There was a loud click as whatever speaker system had been engaged was shut off.

"Assholes." Methos muttered and got to his feet. He twirled his heavy blade in his right hand and waited. Half an hour later a man approached the glass. He was dressed like a stereotypical scientist, light blue button up shirt, dark loafers, white slacks, white lab coat (no pocket protector), and thickish glasses. He looked to be thirtyish, had dark brown almost black hair, dark eyes, pallid skin, sharp almost rodent like features and too-straight teeth.

"You the face?" Methos asked placing the tip of his blade against the clear wall and leaning against it lazily.

"The face Mr. Pierson?"

"Okay, again, not my name there kiddo, the face, the face of the evil conspiracy responsible for trapping me here. Y'know the one that convinced my old bff to transport me into your shoebox and high tail it out of here? The fucking face." Methos sighed heavily.

"Very well, I am the face. You are indeed Adam Pierson, formerly of Seacouver, Washington and Paris, France, when you are not jet setting or vanishing from the grid."

"You think I'm Adam Pierson? I knew Pierson back in grad school, nice guy couldn't hold his liquor no luck with the ladies. But me? Not Adam Pierson."

"We have a job offer."

"You have a funny way of recruiting."

"Mr. Pierson, I represent an organization known as The Initiative."

"Oooh d'yeah happen to have a branch called the Cabal?" Methos asked leaning against the wall while making blowfish faces on the clear plastic. The scientist's face twitched just enough. Methos decided he was afraid and probably knew of The Cabal.

"Mr. Pierson-"

"I have some demands kiddo, I want, a steak, a big juicy one, rare with all the trimmings, I want a pony keg of the best local micro brew lager. I want the comfiest bed possible and a beautiful woman to help me get to sleep. I want-"

"Mr. Pierson -"

"Not my name face and yeah know you are really beginning to -"

"Mr. Pierson, we have an offer you will hear it out, you will be given one hour to make a decision."

"And then what? Beer?" Methos asked with a predator's grin. He breathed on the glass and started making tiny troll footprints with his balled fist, thumb, and pointer finger.

"If you decline you die."

"Kay, what's your offer?" Methos asked pausing in his footprint creation to eyeball the scientist.

"We need you to kill a man."

"Well what the fuck makes you think I can kill a man? Or that I even want to?"

"Money Mr. Pierson, and the promise of your immediate and permanent death if you decline."

"Permanent eh? What's that supposed to mean? Isn't death pretty much permanent?" Methos sneered.

"You have one hour to decide."

"Oh come on you haven't even told me who the hell you want me to wack! I can't make a decision on so little information, it's ridiculous to even ask." He huffed and folded his arms, which was awkward and improbable seeing as he was still holding his blade.

"One hour Mr. Pierson."

Methos glared at the little man. It would seem that he had to kill a man. He'd killed before, for fun, boredom, self defense, profit, hell any reason really. But, he hated to be forced into doing anything especially taking a life. It was unwise to take or destroy that which you could not return or create. His species were sterile, even if he weren't he couldn't bring another person back to life. Not an immortal not a normal human being so taking that life could never be undone.

He kept making a troll path while he thought, it amused him and passed the time nicely. He would have to say yes intially. He'd spent at least as much time lying as anything else. He was good at it, he could agree to kill this person and then just not do it. Of course that was an absurd -if comforting- thought. These people would have some kind of leverage or insurance. They apparently knew enough about him that they would realize he was slippery than a slime eel.

He was fucked. For now at least. He was their puppet and would dance but he was going to turn on them at the earliest opportunity. Which, of course, they would be expecting. He wondered idly if John or Helen had told them anything about him. A cold thought occurred to him (at long last), what if these were the people who had told John and Helen his real name? His past? He paled and lost track of his stupid troll footprints.

No one he knew of outside of two or three who would literally die before revealing anything knew that much about him. He had joined the Watchers twenty or so years ago and demolished their records on him, and the only other immortals who had shared his full past had died a few years later. He had to agree, if only to find out what they knew and how.

The hour moved much slower after that.

The ratty scientist returned and waited in front of Methos' cell.

"Your answer Mr. Pierson?"

"Okay seriously, stop calling me Pierson. The answer, as you know full well, is yes." He sighed.

"Very good Mr. Pierson, if you would follow me." The scientist said in what was apparently his best butler impression. The entire translucent wall slid down.

"Hmm, go big or go home eh?" Methos muttered. He was maintaining his banter but the fun had gone from it.

"This way Mr. Pierson." Methos followed the little man through what appeared to be a large network of cells and closed rooms.

"So how far underground are we? I bet we're far-"

"Mr. Pierson, please be quiet."

"Uhm, no? You kidnapped me – cleverly I might add – and now you've shanghai'd me into committing murder, by the way I'm holding a massive fucking sword, so I get to babble." Methos hissed.

"This way." The scientist muttered and scuttled ahead.

"How do you miss the four foot sword?" Methos grumbled to himself. Finally they entered a largish room with a projector screen at one end.

"Please have a seat Mr. -"

Methos waggled his sword suggestively. The scientist escaped with his dignity. The door closed and the lock snapped shut after him.

"Putz." Methos muttered.

"So shall I have a seat and wait for the movie? Or will there be rubber hoses and beatings first?"

A low hum started to emanate from the screen and an image appeared. It was a young man, early twenties. Dark hair light eyes, he was handsome. Average height. A name appeared below the image.

_Alexander Harris, Sunnydale California 2002._

The image and caption vanished and were replaced. This photo showed the same man, older, with an eye patch. There was no caption. After a few seconds the photo vanished. And a mass of text appeared.

_Alexander 'Xander' Harris is your target. You will kill him. You have one year. If you do not kill __him Duncan Macleod, Amanda Darieux, and Joe Dawson will die. _

That was it. No more information, no location, no likes, no skills, nothing.

"Very cute, Sunnydale ceased to exist a few months ago, a suspicious natural disaster right? Look if you want me to kill this guy I need information -"

The door opened and the little rat man reappeared.

"You may go sir, there is a bag by the exit, please take it with you. Inside you will find supplies and a phone. Keep the phone charged and on you at all times."

"Fabulous. How do you expect me to find and kill this guy? There are hundreds of millions of Americans."

"Not my concern sir."

"Hey tell me this chuckles why are you dressed as a scientist if you all you do is act like a fourth rate Alfred? Alfred could kick your ass by the way."

"This way sir." He replied and turned on his heel.

Methos followed him back through the winding circuitous halls and to a door with no exit sign and a duffle bag waiting for him. Methos scooped it up and flipped the scientist the bird.

"Amateurs." He sneered as he shoved through the exit.

Blinding sunlight stabbed at him. Oven hot air enveloped him, he could feel his skin prickle as pores opened and he started to sweat. He was standing in the middle of a desert. He turned around and there was only more desert. Fabulous, mysterious disappearing compounds were his favorite.


	7. Bad Idea? Good Idea? Bad Idea

The bag held a full camelbak and a few pounds of concentrated rations. A four inch knife, a compass, a space blanket, and a few other odds and ends. It should be enough to get him to civilization, of course a map or a road would have helped.

He had lived in the desert for centuries. Made it his home for almost a thousand years. Still, he hated the fucking desert. He could live there indefinitely but he wasn't pleased about it, besides there was a man he was meant to be hunting.

It took him two days of walking to find a road and another half day of hitchhiking to get a ride. Once he hit civilization he started tracking down his friends. Joe had retired early from the Watchers. Sick of the politics and infighting he had decided to walk away and keep his sanity and friendship with his immortals intact. None of the numbers Methos had for Joe worked most just rang. He frowned and tried to contact Amanda, and finally Macleod. Nothing. He left coded messages at their shared voicemail and hoped for the best.

He needed information and time. He had a year, which was great if he knew for sure when he'd been dumped into the desert. At least it was the U.S. He had been mildly concerned that he was somewhere in South America, maybe even the Atacama desert. The plant life looked wrong for anywhere but North America though so he wasn't too shocked to see a sign in English announcing his entry into the local widespot in the road. He again checked the phone he'd been given for a signal. Nothing, although the battery was apparently unlimited.

"Disapearing underground lairs and immortal cell phone batteries, nice bunch of villains." He sighed as he hung up the payphone again.

The phone was in the parking lot of a gas station. He studied the station's layout and casually sauntered in. Well as casually as he could. He looked like a dude who'd just walked out of a desert with a sword, 'cause he was.

"Hi." He greeted the clerk. His sword was strapped to his back under the camelbak. It was less obvious but it was after all a 4' sword and he was a six footish man so it was hard to be entirely stealthy.

"Nice sword." The kid at the counter said. He sounded tense.

"Ah thanks, that's kind of you to notice. Say do you have a motel around here?"

"Uh about twenty miles down the road."

"Great great, uhm do they happen to have internet access?"

"I don't know."

"Hmm, any place around here that does?"

"Uh not really."

"How 'bout your phone? Got the 'net on your phone?"

"Maybe."

"Okay I'll make you a deal, you let me use your phone for say twenty minutes, I give you a hundred bucks."

"Deal."

Methos took the phone from the kid and started scrolling through and doing searches. He had bank accounts all over the world and dozens of aliases. Within fifteen minutes he had a rental car on the way, and a motel room in the nearest moderately sized city that was hosting a large convention. He gave the kid his phone back and waited for the car.

It took him two weeks to get the basic things he needed to search for and kill Alexander Harris. 'Course now he just needed to find the kid and put a bullet in the back of his head. It took him two weeks because at first he tried to find where his taskmasters had taken his friends. No luck, he'd tried to find out who or what had taken him, tried to contact Helen and John, even Will and Ashley. Nothing.

So he had reluctantly started collecting gear and sending out feelers for Harris. The kid didn't have much of a record and what was available was patchy. Apparently a lot of information had been lost when the entire fucking town had been eaten by a sinkhole. Something about this whole thing reeked to high heaven. He could just bolt and head for the hills but he suspected the idiots who had involved him in this mess would find him again, then there was the whole 'I'm gonna kill your friends so there' factor.

He bent over his laptop and glared at his email. Alexander Harris' wasn't in Sunnydale anymore, obviously, apparently he had briefly relocated to Cleveland along with most of the survivors of Sunnydale and then gone to Africa. Awesome. It wasn't so much that he hated Africa as much as he hated being in modern Africa. Then again, a random killing could be hidden, depending on the country and the victim. Sadly a one-eyed handsome American would be noticed and his sudden disappearance or death would likewise be noticed. Ideally he could lure Harris back to the U.S. Somehow.

Question was, what did Harris care about enough to drop everything and come back for? He logged out of his email and into a travel site. He needed tickets to Cleveland.

He spent a week and a half in Cleveland studying his quarry. Harris worked for something called the Watchers, which in spite of their similar name to the Watchers Methos was familiar with seemed to be unrelated. Which was annoying. Methos had spent nearly a decade in the Watchers meddling with his own chronicle (what little of it there was) and avoiding his kind. During that time he'd never heard of any other branch or any other organization with that nomenclature.

So, he worked for the Watchers and lived in their building. Aside from Harris and what appeared to be the day-to-day workers in the building a massive number of young women moved in and out of the building. He didn't think it was a brothel or they were engaged in the sex trade but he was hard pressed to think of another reason for dozens of young women to be gathered in one building. It was weird.

He watched the girls and various employees for a few days without seeing anything of particular use. The security was solid and wouldn't be easy to crack.

Methos was crouched on the flat roof of a building opposite his target. Binoculars in hand he studied the main entrance to the Watcher's building again. He needed to get in and either find out more about Harris or figure out a way to lure him back to the U.S.

"Burn the bloody building to the ground." He grumbled as a petite blond exited the building. She looked upset and moved with martial confidence. She was a regular and several times Methos had witnessed other girls approach the blond with an air of deference and respect. Several others usually accompanied the woman. Today she was solo. He lowered the binoculars and thought.

If this woman was someone important perhaps a threat or assault against her would be enough to drag Harris out of his hole. Or not, he didn't want to hurt an innocent person but he needed to take action. Sure he'd been given a year but his friends were being held against their will. He picked up a small messenger bag and slipped the binoculars into it. It was made to resemble a leather attache case and he was dressed in a neat midrange suit. He would blend with the neighborhood lunch traffic of office workers.

Methos made his way to the street and started to shadow the blond. She was small but well muscled, she moved with the grace and strength of a predator. Utterly confident and aware, she wouldn't be an easy target. He wanted to take the time to plan this but in the days he'd been watching this was the first time he'd seen her alone.

He drifted after her for two blocks, in and out of the lunch crowds and shoppers. She went into a fashionable boutique once for a few minutes and a cafe to pick up a to-go order. She started to head back to the building. Methos frowned and hurried up, he would have to act within the next five minutes or he would lose her again.

She paused to look at another boutique and he took the opportunity to cross to her side of the street. There was a shallow alley a half block ahead that he hoped to use. She approached the alley and he rushed her aiming to catch her by the shoulders and hustled her further into the alley - and was kicked in the gut by a mule. Well, that was what it felt like anyway. The tiny girl dropped him to his knees with a kick to his gut and then lashed out with inhuman speed to punch him in the face. He managed (barely) to avoid the blow and grab her forearm. What followed was fast, painful, and uncertain. Somehow he ended up on his ass with a broken nose and a surprisingly large knife against his throat.

"Took you long enough, why the hell are you eyeballing me?" She demanded.

Now, normally in this situation he would have the strength and leverage of a fit, combat hardened, tested warrior and male of his size on his side. To be fair, he did have these qualities and assets, however, his 'victim' appeared to have at least twice his strength and speed on her side.

"What are you?" He asked. The blade on his throat made him nervous but it would make anyone nervous so he tried not to sweat it. Until she pressed harder on the knife and a bead of blood ran along the surface of the blade and dripped on to his shirt.

"Why. Are. You. Watching. Me?" She snarled.

"I need to get to Harris." He admitted. What the hell at least it would get the kid back in the country. Maybe. She broke his jaw with a backhanded slap. He tried not to let the fact that it was starting to heal as soon as it was broken too obvious. Hopefully she hadn't felt the bone break. His nose had healed already. Still the blow hurt and rattled him.

"Why? What do you want with Xander?" She demanded. His head lolled as she gripped his shirt front and lapels and dragged him upright – which meant hauling him over her head a bit - and throwing him against the alley wall.

"F-f-uck you." He managed to gasp with his nearly healed jaw blood from his cut gums and still bleeding nose peppered her face and clothes. She released him and he slid to the ground. She pulled a cell out of her pocket.

"Hey yeah it's Buffy, I've got him we'll need to take him back he's not talking and I don't trust him, he said he's after Xander."

Who the hell was Xander? His brain clicked, AleXANDER Harris. Huh, odd nickname. His head was foggy, he probably had a concussion or was healing from a subdural hematoma. Great. Wait, did she say her name was Buffy?

"Buffy?" He asked incredulously. She cold cocked him.

Water, especially cold water, is not recommended for waking people up, unless of course you do not like the sleeper. He gasped and writhed under the impact of the frigid water and let out a noise that was surprisingly similar to a scalded cat. He shook his head and glared around. The blond was sitting in front of him. He was bound to a chair which was bolted to the concrete floor. Nice, these folks were prepared for these things. Awesome, more creepy friends to play with.

"Why are you spying on us?" She demanded. There was a bright light above her, it cast dark shadows beyond his line of sight. He listened hard and thought he could hear at least one other person breathing.

"I'm not talking to you until you untie me and let me clean up." He sighed. She was beautiful, tough, and carried a sadness and maturity that belied her apparent years. He didn't sense her the way he did other immortals, but then he hadn't felt any other immortals since his jaunt to Easter Island. So what was she?

"No deal." She growled. She was protective of Harris, like a lioness. Why? What was he to her? Friend? Lover?

"You gonna hit me some more?"

"There doesn't seem to be much point to that." The voice was tired, British and stern. A man dressed in an impeccable tweed suit stepped out of the shadows. He was handsome, fiftyish, dark hair, good build, he was polishing a pair of glasses with a crisp white handkerchief as he approached Methos. Methos didn't rise to the bait.

"You just received a rather severe beating from a Slayer and are apparently no worse for wear." The man said and put his glasses on. Again Methos stayed silent.

"What are you?" The man asked.

"What's a Slayer?" Methos countered.

"We've researched you, or tried to. There is no record of anything with your apparent abilities that is not some kind of demon. So, what are you?" The man asked again. Steel had crept into his voice. Methos watched how he moved and decided the man was probably a legitimate threat. If nothing else he would slow the immortal down.

"I'm immortal." Methos sighed and pulled against whatever was securing him to the chair.

"Immortal?" The man asked intrigued. All menace and threat of violence fell away from him, replaced with raw curiosity.

"Hey hi nice to meet you, my name is Adam and you are?" Methos sneered.

"My name is Rupert Giles." The man sighed. The little blond stepped closer to Methos, unconsciously protecting the man – Rupert.

"Fabulous Rupert, look, I'm hungry, I'm wet, and I'm pretty worn out. So, you let me talk to you two like a human being and maybe throw in a beer and sandwich and let's see if we can get to the bottom of this."

"You tried to attack me-"

"Yes and that worked out super well for me didn't it? Look I have questions, you have questions and the apparent ability to kick the crap out of me. Let me loose give me a sandwhich and let's y'know chat."

"Chat?" Rupert asked.

"I think he wants to be your BFF Giles, look tall and stupid you screwed with the wrong people. Xander is family and you don't-"

"Oh for fuck's sake fine! Leave me tied up but can I have a sandwhich? Seriously it's been hours since you beat me up right?" He interjected frustrated and ravenous.

"It's good Giles I'll cuff him, if he gets all feisty I can handle him."

"Okay seriously lady what are you?" He asked as she approached him.

"I'm the Slayer." She said with a grin.

"My head hurts." Methos whined.

* * *

"You're probably fine Xander but Buffy thought you should know this guy was asking about you." Dawn said, she was video chatting with Xander over skype.

"Thanks Dawnie, so he's like a non-demony demon?"

"He said he's immortal, Buffy totally kicked his ass and he was fine like an hour later."

"Well that's just neat."

"Yeah, unless he wants to kill you." Dawn smirked.

"Hush, I'll be back in a couple days." Xander grinned and logged off.

* * *

Methos devoured his second sandwich and tried to talk with an overfull mouth.

"You're immortal?"

"Yeah no death unless I get blowed up or something." He muttered bits of dry bread puffing from his mouth with every hard syllable.

"But you aren't a demon?" Giles asked. Methos was cuffed and shackled and still soggy but he'd been moved to a more comfortable room and fed. Giles was sitting across from him while Buffy lurked menacingly in the corner.

"Nope, met a demon once, Ahriman Zoroastrian prick. Son of a bitch cost me a good friend, friends nearly." Methos mused and picked up a third sandwich.

"Ahriman?" Buffy mouthed.

"He's a myth." Giles muttered. His expression was pensive, pensive and intrigued.

"Hey pensive boy what's going on?" Buffy asked Giles. Giles smiled very very slightly and cleared his throat.

"I'm not from here am I?" Methos asked finishing his third sandwich and reaching for a provided glass of water.

"Er, no Mr uh Adam I don't believe you are." Giles admitted.

"Giles? Spill." Buffy insisted.

"I believe he's from an alternate dimension."

"Yeah me too." Methos agreed.

He'd been mulling it over for awhile and it was the only thing that explained the inconsistencies. Why John would betray him so easily, why the infirmary at the Sanctuary had seemed slightly different, why Will hadn't noticed the exchange between he and Methos, why he hadn't felt any other immortals even though he had crossed through a good chunk of the U.S. Etc etc. It explained everything, except how the hell he'd gotten there. As he finished his water and his review of his own conclusions Giles was likewise finishing his explanation to Buffy.

"He's what a Slider?" She asked.

"Nope, look I don't know how I got here but someone engineered it. They have my friends either in this place or in my..uh place -"

"We need nouns Giles, it is nouns we need right?" Buffy asked frowning slightly.

"Erm yes, uh well this is our reality perhaps Mr – uh Adam here can refer to his as well his reality."

"Clever." Methos sighed.

"So why did someone bring you here?" Buffy demanded. Methos smirked.

"Apparently to kill your friend." This time she broke his jaw and knocked him out at the same time.

He came to a few seconds later as Giles was examining his jaw.

"Ow." Methos grumbled pulling away from Giles' hands. He reached up and gripped his jaw, there was a soft cracking grinding noise as he set it in place. Giles and Buffy winced at the sound.

"Oh my god that was so gross." Buffy breathed wide eyed.

"Oh come on you're some kinda Xena Warrior Princess and you're grossed out by that?" Methos scoffed and rubbed his jaw.

"Uh yes I think Buffy was right in that the uh noise was...disturbing." Giles muttered. He was scrutinizing Methos' healed face.

"So... this is kinda awkward but I've got a year to kill your friend" he ducked to avoid another blow - "and keep my friends alive, so that gives us like nine months to plot a counter move." He said leaning away from Buffy and glaring at her. Giles sighed and reached for his handkerchief.

"Look lady back the fuck off I don't actually _want_ to help these people okay? I don't want to kill your friend he sounds like a good guy all right? Gods I don't _want _ to be here. I should have shot John when he showed up in Paris." He ended with a sigh.

"Okay who is John?" Buffy asked.

Methos sighed and dropped his head to the table. Today was not his day.


	8. Hmm

He did his best to explain everything that had happened to him since his run-in with John in Paris (leaving certain parts out of course) until he had received an introductory beating by Buffy in the alley. It took longer than he would have liked mostly because Giles was full of questions and Buffy kept laughing or gasping in about equal measure.

Buffy uncuffed him but left the shackles on.

"Seriously?" He asked. She smiled prettily.

"You are not running away -"

"I said that I wouldn't -"

"You're from another reality pal."

"And so are you!"

"No I'm not!"

"Are too!"

This continued for far longer than logic or reason would usually dictate.

"Fine!" I'll unshackle you god you're a drag." Buffy whined. He blinked at her and wondered if just maybe he had gone insane (again), and he was imagining this petite valkyrie. Then he wondered what it meant if his subconscious had A., dreamed her up, and B., she had then kicked the shit out of him. He didn't like that train of thought so he gave it up and assumed that he was, indeed, in some kind of alternate reality. His head started to hurt again.

"I think you're giving me a brain tumor." He muttered as she knelt and unlocked his shackles.

He sighed in relief and rotated his ankles. He slowly got up, partly to avoid startling Buffy into beating him unconscious again and partly because he felt stiff and sluggish. He stifled a yawn as he stretched and studied the room he was being held in.

It was secure but not necessarily a cell. It was painted in warm reds and browns surprisingly stylish really. Bookshelves were nailed to the walls and the lighting was bright but recessed with what looked like hardened covers He wouldn't be able to break the lenses and slash anyone with glass or hurl a bookshelf at someone, at least not easily, but he didn't feel like rubber hoses and sodium pentothal were incoming either. It was a nice balance.

"What do you do in here?" He asked.

"Research mostly." Rupert said watching Buffy. She was pacing the opposite side of the room from Methos.

"Okay so Xander is heading back from Africa now, I don't want this guy in the same room as him Giles. I'll ask Willow, Andrew, and Dawn to see if they can figure out anything about this parallel world and his friends."

"Look Buffy" He asked. She glowered and nodded.

"I don't want to hurt your friend, but I want my friends back and I want to get back to where I belong."

"How do you know your friends exist here?"

"I don't, I know that somehow those people knew I was here and have forced me into this, they knew their names and I've tried to contact them but no go. Look I don't give a shit about you people I just want to go home and live my life, but I can't do that can I? So you can help me find my friends, or you can stand back and let me do it alone but don't make the mistake of thinking I'm going to sit on my hands while you try to do the impossible." He hissed.

"Nice well I don't trust you pal, I get the wiggins from creepy guys I catch stalking underage girls-"

"You are not a girl and you're not underage. I was only bothering with you lot to get Harris to come back to the U.S. You move like a soldier, try thinking like one." He snapped. Giles seemed content to watch the argument.

"You're a creepy asshole and I -"

"Grow up. So you're upset I got close to your girls, so someone manipulated me into hunting your friend. Big goddamned deal. There are worse things in the world, pretty sure you're aware of that. Why don't you try being me for thirty seconds you spoiled little-"

Fists flew. This time Methos was prepared, the battle lasted longer. He didn't try to match her blow for blow but contented himself with fending her off and landing savage technical blows. After a few minutes the room was a shambles, Giles had fled in self defense seconds into the fight. Methos was blood smeared – mostly his own – and Buffy didn't look much better. They were both breathing hard and not ready to quit.

"That all you got?" He asked. She darted toward him with mongoose speed and he blocked her a hair too late earning himself a split cheek. Dazed he staggered back and exaggerated his injury and let her come close enough for a rabbit punch. Ordinarily he would never use such a blow on someone he didn't want to kill but she was a helluva lot tougher than him and well trained. The blow landed badly but jarred her.

Again and again they clashed and backed off. Finally they faced each other with wobbling limbs and swollen faces. Methos was still healing but slowly, they were exhausted and battered.

"Feel..better?" Methos asked chest heaving.

"Butthead." Buffy growled.

"Truce?" He asked offering his hand. Buffy snatched his wrist and hauled him forward and off his feet. Exhausted he couldn't react fast enough, she dropped him onto his face, wrenched his arm behind his back at an agonizing angle and planted her knee on his spine.

"Do. Not. Fuck with me gumby." She growled.

He let out a low animal growl in reply. Once in his life he would have made it his mission to annihilate anyone who had even thought to treat him like that. Then again he'd also spent 1300 years raping, pillaging and murdering his way across the better part of two continents. Things changed, people changed. Instincts however didn't. He writhed under her grip breaking his shoulder and arm and reversed her maneuver. He pinned her by straddling her chest and pressing his forearm to her throat half throttling her.

"I'm immortal, I've lived for hundreds of years, I am hunted by my kind and if anyone knew what I was I'd be hunted by yours. Remember what I am." He snarled. Her eyes were full of fire and hate. He released her and lay gasping on his back. Exhaustion and pain clawing at him. He had not intended to win, hadn't thought it possible at the end. His right arm throbbed with agony. He close his eyes and gripped the wrist. With a low scream he hauled on his wrist until the shattered bones shifted and settled into their normal locations. Sweaty and beyond tired, as safe as he could be with a homicidal superbeing at his elbow, stuck in a parallel world that played by different rules – he let himself sleep.

"Adam?" The voice was soft and cheerful but somehow mellow. Female, youngish. He opened his eyes and flared his nostrils breathing unfamiliar smells, herbs and perfumes. His eyes studied the plain ceiling above him for a few moments and then flicked around. A petite red head was sitting at his elbow. She radiated calm and strength, something about her reminded him of Cassandra, a strange energy to her. He wondered if Cassandra existed in this place. As soon as the thought formed he pushed it away. Dismissed it's existence to stress. Should his Cassandra ever show up again only one of them would be walking away.

"Hi, I"m Willow." The woman said. Methos blinked and sat up. He wasn't sore but he was tired and thirsty.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Uh eighteen hours or so."

"The woman, Buffy, is she okay?"

"I would steer clear of her if you could but she's mostly fine."

"I..." He frowned and didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to explain himself to this girl or her cohorts. He had one job, get his friends back, well two assuming he wanted to go home. Truth was the lack of other immortals in this world deeply appealed to him. He hated the Game. Once he had lusted for a kill any kill. Time had shown that even that couldn't sate his pain or fear so he had grown up. Killing could not be undone and should never be done lightly. The fact that he could possibly live for thousands of more years without worrying about running into an old 'friend' intrigued him.

"I'll uh, I'll get Giles." The red head said finally. She smiled shyly at him as she left. He was lying on a soft mattress in a clean comfortable room. Painted in warm colors with a bay window it screamed guest room. So maybe battering Buffy had knocked some sense into her and her friends. Or not.

Two young women barely out of their teens entered. One had a beautiful mocha skin and eyes so dark they glittered black. She was beautiful as was the girl at her elbow, a tanned brunette. The duo moved like they had been trained, he suspected they were like Buffy. Giles entered after the girls.

"Good evening, are you feeling well?" Giles asked.

"Thirsty but I'm fine, you don't need the honor guard." Methos said gesturing at the women. They bristled at his movement.

"I'm afraid neither of us has a choice about that. Buffy has ordered them to follow you at all times when you leave your room. Something about ruining an outfit and dirty tricks."

"It usually boils down to clothes. Or furs, or a favorite skin even, women." Methos sighed. He slowly sat up and put his feet on the floor. He was wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt. Both fit a bit snugly but he wasn't uncomfortable. His feet were bare and no shoes or socks were in sight.

"I think the maid stole my slippers." He smirked at Giles.

"Ah yes when Buffy has decided you've learned to behave you'll be granted certain privileges, shoes being the first."

"Hey she was wearing boots and I hardly think my blood ruined them-"

One of the girls moved closer to him, too close. He stood up and stared hard at her.

"Back off. You think you can take me? Try it now or give me space." He growled. It was the girl with black eyes. When she spoke she had an accent somewhere in Africa he guessed. He was shaky with African accents had lost touch with the continent over time. As a rule he avoided conflict, immortal or no an unlucky bullet or a bomb could kill him as certainly as any sword. Plus, it was hot.

"You are lucky that Buffy thinks we should keep you, if she did not we would kill you." She whispered.

"In my sleep? Very nice, good to know where I stand, now, back off." There was no mistaking the command in his words. She managed to hold his gaze for a moment and then stepped back. He was impressed, most people couldn't do that when he really tried.

"I apologize the girls are very loyal to Buffy and word has gotten out about your uh altercation."

"She kicked my ass first, besides it was really more of a draw. Anytime you have to break your shoulder and arm just to even the score is hardly a victory." Methos sighed. There let them circulate that bit of information through their gossip mill. Probably turn into him biting his arm off just to get away by evening.

He followed Giles, the two warrior girls flanking and trailing them. They allowed him enough space to avoid feeling crowded but he knew they could and would be on him in seconds if he made a move. Happily he had no intention of causing trouble. Three brawls in two days against an inhumanly strong and fast opponent were quite enough to last him for the rest of the century. He wanted to get Joe out and Amanda and he supposed Macleod. The millennium had passed and Ahriman had been put back in his box but there was still the next arbitrarily important century and inevitable champion to worry about.

"Feel free to eat whatever you like as long as it is not explicitly labeled. Community meals are served at five am, ten am, two pm, and six pm in the main dining room. We have almost two hundred regular staff and about half to a quarter of that number rotating in and out on a regular basis." Giles was talking about the facility obviously. Methos listened with half an ear while he studied the halls and rooms he was led into and through.

"Okay not to kill the tour or anything but can we maybe make some real progress?"

"Buffy has asked that you be given a tour and treated well but kept away from Alexander Harris and out of her way." The brunette chimed in. Methos scowled.

"Uhm, yeah okay fuck that." He said and folded his arms with a grin, he leaned against the wall and waited. They stared at him. He waited. Giles sighed and left after a minute or so, the girls remained. He spent half the day there before Giles returned.

The academic studied the situation and wandered off muttering about civil disobedience. The red head came by with a few other girls and giggled at him. He had rarely been giggled at and it was disconcerting. Screamed at, cursed at, insulted, praised, etc but giggled at? That was pretty new, which was nice considering his ridiculous age. He decided that he liked the red head. As night fell and his stomach was making loud complaints two girls replaced his original guards. He could hear raised voices from the dining area. He yawned and wandered toward the noise. His guards followed him.

"He's blocking the main hallway!" A shrill male voice cried.

"He isn't hurting anyone Andrew relax." The red head again. The voices were coming from a slightly open door. Methos casually opened it and wandered in.

Buffy, Giles, the red head, a younger girl who looked like she was in high school or maybe a freshman college student, a very pale man dressed like the last best ramones fan, a weaselly faced young man dressed in a suit , and a half dozen girls were in the room standing around a table. The table was empty but he got the distinct impression that it normally wasn't, maps? Books? Blueprints?

"This is a closed meeting." The youngster in the suit sneered and then his jaw dropped. He stared at Methos with a disturbingly worshipful eye. Methos ignored him.

"About me? Ahh you shouldn't have." He crooned and stepped further into the room. The red head hid a smile while the various young women bristled. The punk smirked and remained quiet.

"You really are a major pain in the ass." Buffy growled. She didn't look good but she looked a helluva lot better than she had any right to.

"Okay seriously I told you what I am why don't you share your secret eh? I've seen and taken a lot of beatings you are way too gorgeous considering our little spat to be fully human." Methos said rather tactlessly.

"Better give up the goods love, he's got your number." The punk drawled with an accent. Methos smiled at him, not a friendly 'let's grab a beer later buddy' smile, but more of an 'I like your style but don't even think about fucking with me' smile.

"I'm a Slayer -"

"Into each generation a girl is born: one girl in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness; to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their numbers. She is the Slayer" The weaselly kid squeaked while still staring at Methos.

"Okay that actually explains nothing." Methos sighed. The kid was still staring.

"Take a picture Andrew it will last longer." The punk scoffed.

"I am faster and stronger than most girls I live to kill vampires and demons. Oh and shop." She said.

"Don't think we've got any of you back home, or vampires or demons ether. Pretty sure I'd've met one or two." He mused. The nerdy kid was making him nuts with the bug eyes.

"What the hell is your problem kid?" He demanded.

"You're Methos!" He crowed. Methos went white and had to clench his fists to keep from leaping across the table and throttling the kid, supernatural amazonian guards be damned.

"What?" Buffy asked holding the kid back.

"Andrew you're freaking us out!" The red head chided.

"He's Methos, he's an immortal, from Highlander! Is Duncan with you?" The boy demanded.

"What the hell are you babbling about?" Methos demanded.

"The TV show Highlander, you're Methos!" The kid was almost dancing now.

"Oh come on you have got to be kidding, a TV show? I am _not_ a television character!" He snapped.

"I can prove it!" Andrew cried and pulled a laptop out of a bag sitting on the floor. With almost inhuman swiftness he had it up and logged onto youtube.

"See?" He cried as a video began to play, it looked like the opening intro to a show. Within seconds his face appeared with a stranger's name. He sqeeaked and snatched up the computer. He watched the entire wretched intro four times before Andrew managed to get the laptop back.

"Oh my gods I'm a joke, a badly written sci fi character." Methos muttered mournfully rubbing at his eyes with one hand.

"No, you're not." Buffy said quietly. He looked at her through the fingers of his right hand and then slowly lowered his hand. Her face was bruised, one lip still split, but there was no animosity in her eyes only earnest certainty.

"Look it's a crappy TV show here but where you are? It's reality and it matters."

He started to respect her then.

"Look our lives read like wacky wacky sci fi movies sometimes but they're real."

"So...you're a TV show too?"

"Probably." The red head interrupted. Methos' head hurt and he really really wished he'd just said no to John back in Paris. With a bullet preferably.

"Look physics and magic agree that there are basically infinite possible parallel universes in existence. It makes sense. I bet there's some universe out there that has normal everyday people doing normal everyday stuff for their TV shows."

"And you are?" Methos asked numbly unable to recall her name.

"Willow Rosenberg."

"Right. Okay, Willow if you say so." He said and shook his head. He closed the lid of the laptop killing the tinny echoey theme song. Andrew looked at him with shiny puppydog eyes.

"Stop it kid, I"m not that character okay?" He growled. The boy wouldn't relent so he drew up his Horseman and let the kid get a look at that. The boy swallowed hard and looked away. Methos tried to drag his thoughts back to the present, to what mattered. He remembered the phone he'd been given.

"Shit, look I had a phone with me-"

"Here." Andrew said in a slightly subdued tone. Ugh. He gave the phone to Methos, there were no missed calls or text messages. He sighed in relief.

"I assume that is a gift from your employers?" Giles asked.

"Employees get paid, I'm as much a hostage as my friends." Methos snapped. Andrew swallowed hard and backed away from him. Buffy caught the movement.

"Give us the room." She said and the various Slayers filed out. He assumed they were slayers although the uninformative rhyme had only spoken of one and heavily implied there could only be one. He waited and finally it was just Buffy, Willow, the idiot Andrew, Giles, and the Brit.

"Andrew what do you know about him?" She demanded. Andrew swallowed hard and looked back at his laptop.

"Uhm."

"Oh hell why don't you ask me? Or better yet watch the show?" Methos sneered.

"Andrew?"

"He uh, well he's old."

"How old?" Buffy asked growing impatient at pulling tiny bits of information from Andrew.

"Oh hell, I'm five thousand years old. Ish." Methos growled. The punk laughed.

"Really? You? Five thousand? I don't believe it." He snorted. Methos turned on him.

"Yeah? How do you think I managed to beat your Slayer? Luck?" He demanded. The pale man's face twisted into a monstrosity as he kept laughing. His eyes were yellow and foul and his forehead was furrowed and bestial, massive fangs protruded from his mouth. Methos reacted on instinct. He slugged the man hard enough to stagger him and followed through with the assault. Pounding the creature's face again and again until something stopped his arm. He pulled on it hard and something smacked him in the head. He blinked and looked back at what held his arm. Buffy. She looked pissed.

Methos' brain kicked in. They obviously knew the blond man was not human and didn't mind. Methos released the creature and backed away.

"You don't make many friends do you?" The man sneered through his bloodied teeth and face.

"Shut up Spike you did that on purpose."

"Had to test his mettle." Spike snorted.

"Stop showing off Spike." Giles sighed.

"He likes to get a rise." Willow chimed in. Methos looked at his bloodied fist and back at Spike. The man-thing's face had returned to normal. He was actually fairly handsome in the right light. Methos felt nauseas. First he was a TV character and now monsters turned out to be real, and kinda snarky. Awesome.

"What the fuck is it?"

"_He_ is Spike, a vampire." Buffy sighed glaring at Spike. The vampire was licking his own blood and grinning at Methos.

"Okay one, _gross_, two you're a vampire slayer right? So what the hell?" Methos demanded. Buffy glared at him.

"Look sword boy he's on our side and we trust him so shut it."

Spike kept licking his blood.

"Not helping." Buffy barked at him. Spike scowled but stopped hamming.

Methos let silence fill the room for a moment.

"And I'm the TV character?"

* * *

"Okay so...just to get this straight. He's a TV character, but in his reality he's a real person and since he's here now he's still a real person?"

"Yep."

"Somehow he was Shangahai'd here probably by the Initiative to kill me, only he's pissed at them 'cause they pulled the typical evil bad guy crap and kidnapped his friends?"

"Yep."

"Okay can we have a semi normal month just like once a year?"

"Nope."

"Right." Xander sighed and rubbed his tired eye. He'd been on various modes of transport trying to get to Cleveland for two days and change. He studied the image on the monitor. Methos didn't look much older than him. How could he be a 5,000 year old immortal man from a different reality? Ugh. Too weird.

"I think we can trust him." Buffy said into the silence.

"Hmm? Yeah we probably can, the Initiative is good at making with the enemies." Xander agreed.

"We missed you." Buffy added and gave him a bear hug.

"Buff...air." Xander gasped. She released him with a squeak.

"I want to meet him." Xander said as soon his breathing recovered.

"I don't think that's -"

"You've kicked his ass two and a half times, and with the other slayers and Willow there you really think he'll do anything?" Xander chided her.

"Would you?" Buffy asked.

"If I thought you wouldn't help me, or I thought you were trying to stop me and my friends might die because of it? Yeah, probably, so why don't you let him help us?"

"Because...because I can't lose you Xander."

"Buffy, you've died multiple times and we didn't lose you, what makes you think I'm any less stubborn?"

Buffy frowned and glared at him, until her gaze quivered and broke and she smiled.

"Okay but if-"

"Pummeling, lots of pummeling." Xander agreed.


	9. Sticky

Methos glared at Buffy and adjusted his grip on his sword. He had 5,000 years experience in the world most of which had included some kind of weaponry. She had a Slayer's strength, speed and intuition. She was kicking his ass, again. Happily they were both using wooden practice swords and she was sporting several nasty bruises. He would have too if his unnatural physiology hadn't repaired them. Instead it was his temper that was fraying.

"You're telegraphing too much." She sighed.

He leapt forward executing a flawless move he had learned hundreds of years ago, it was beautiful, strong and true and...pointless. She blocked the blow and knocked him off balance he used the awkward balance to his advantage, coming around for a second blow and knocking her on _her_ ass for a change. Methos finished the assault by bringing his wooden blade up to her throat and pressing just hard enough that she could feel it.

She met his gaze and caught her breath. He studied her closely their eyes running along the lines of the other's face until, without preamble, they met again. Methos relaxed the pressure and turned away from her. He ran a hand over his face and turned back to her offering his hand to help her up. Buffy accepted it and he hauled her upright. The two remained silent, moving to opposite corners of the gym, they began stretching and preparing for another match.

"Okay if _that_ isn't sexual tension I'm a freakin' nun." Kim, a young new arrival, muttered. She was watching the security camera in the gym on orders. Buffy didn't want Methos getting up to mischief through curiosity or intent but she also didn't want an obvious guard detail on him. She was trying to be polite.

"Watch it, if Buffy hears that -"

"Oh screw her." Kim muttered cutting off her shift partner.

"You haven't sparred with her yet." Her shift partner, Alyssa, snorted. Alyssa was actually a few months younger than Kim but she had been at the compound for a year already. She'd been one of the first Slayers to arrive after the fall of Sunnydale. Buffy had been her hero, task master, and leader. Kim was new and bitter. A street kid that had woken up one day to find she'd turned into wonder woman and had a pack of crazy faced monsters on her ass. She'd had it tough until Xander had found her but she wasn't the first and wouldn't be the last to rough it.

"Look Kim, take your lumps but lose the attitude, there's no p lace for it here. It'll distract you and get you or one of us killed, so be a good girl and watch the vid." Alyssa growled. Kim _had_ sparred with Alyssa, and lost, badly. Alyssa figured the older girl would be a hell of a Slayer one day, if she pulled her head out of her ass and lost the chip on her shoulder. Kim snorted but turned her attention back to the video feed.

They were fighting again.

As the day wore on Methos lost his emotional investment, his anger and started to really focus during the matches. He hadn't had to concentrate or fight so hard since his battle with Silas. No, that was a lie. He had fought hard yes, but not like this. The last time he had fought like this was when...no he wouldn't think about that either.

Buffy rounded on him and he blocked her blow and countered disarming her neatly. She grinned at him.

"Finally, sheesh. You know for being older than disco it sure takes you awhile to get into the swing of things." She groused leaning on her wooden sword. He grinned back at her, she was right.

"For being a puppy you're quite the trainer." He returned.

The door to the training room opened and a red head popped in.

"Methos Andrew is fanboying again. Something about Silas?" Willow said apologetically. Methos groaned and closed his eyes.

Andrew was an epic pain in the ass. The boy had been watching episodes of the ridiculous television show that Methos was apparently a 'character' in non-stop for days. Occasionally he would attempt to corner Methos and ask him some random pointless question. Such as:

"How did they really hide their swords in a long coat, 'cause it never seemed to work."

"Did missing limbs ever grow back?"

"If a pre-immortal was dying from a hideous disease like Ebola was that a violent death? What if it was like cancer or something slow?"

"Had Methos ever met any kid immortals like Kenny?"

On and on they went. The ancient usually fobbed the boy off or lied. But he kept coming back. Buffy offered to have a talk with Andrew but Methos had demurred hoping the boy's enthusiasm would wane at some point.

It had been two weeks.

"Doesn't he sleep?" Methos muttered picking up a towel and wiping his sweaty face as he walked to the exit. Willow held the door open for him.

' "Where is he?" Methos asked as he passed her.

"Uhm his room I think." Willow said with a shy smile. She exchanged a smirk with Buffy and the two girls hurried after Methos.

It was shallow, and petty, but watching a 5,000 year old immortal man deal with a squeeing fanboy was too damn funny to pass up.

"Andrew?" Methos asked gently pushing the boy's door open.

"Adam!" The kid had insisted on using Methos' 'safe' name. Never mind that there were apparently no immortals in this world, never mind that EVERYONE who knew he was in this place also knew his real name.

"No Andrew it's Methos-"

It occurred to Methos that the 'fake' John must have teleported him to the Intiative and then the Initiative must have dumped him in this universe with the disappearing underground bunker business or else he would not have known John because he wouldn't have met John...

"The Hunters! Shhh they'll come after you!" Andrew squeaked. A scene showing 'Methos' with 'Duncan' in a graveyard was playing on the kid's TV. They were muttering to one another with the body language of two junkyard dogs meeting on neutral turf. Methos was transfixed for a moment. He remembered that conversation in excruciating detail. He felt a strange sense of near vertigo watching a stranger wearing his face perform one of the most painful conversations he'd ever had with anyone.

"Andrew please, calm down. Stop this, okay? I am not a television character I'm real-"

"But-"

"Be quiet Andrew. Remember who I am." Methos snapped letting a bit of the horseman out. He pinched the bridge of his nose and calmed down.

"Now Andrew, think about the Methos you know from the show for a minute okay? Now, ask yourself this, what would he do with someone who knew his secrets, wouldn't leave him alone, and kept doing stupid things that could expose him?" Methos asked patiently. He had tried to reason with the boy, tried to outwait him, tried everything he could think of except a threat. He watched the idiot child's face screw up in concentration, watched him work things out and watched as the moron's face finally blanch in terror.

"Don't hurt me!" Andrew wailed and flung himself at Methos' feet. Methos sighed and picked the boy up by the cuff of his shirt.

"Stop it. Stop following me around, stop watching endless episodes of this ridiculous show, stop pestering me. Get some sleep and get back to work." Methos growled. Andrew nodded like a bobble head with a bad spring. Methos dropped him and stomped out.

In the hallway behind Methos Buffy and Willow were stifling giggles. Andrew followed Methos into the hall a few seconds later. His hair was in disarray from days of endless tv consumption. He didn't see Willow and Buffy until the girls started to howl with laughter. They nearly fell over each other like tween girls at a sleep over. Andrew glared at them in indignation and retreated as gales of fresh laughter filled the hallway.

* * *

Methos had a headache. Sure he was fighting fit, accompanied by a supernatural warrior, a vampire and a small army of eager battle maidens, but his head still hurt. Maybe it was the mysterious-all-powerful-quasi-military-dimension-jumping-big-bad-evil thing they were going to attack.

"Gumby!" Buffy hissed. Methos winced. Or maybe it was Buffy's fun new nickname for him, yeah that might be why his head hurt. He belly crawled to her side and looked toward where she was pointing.

For whatever reason the Initiative had set up shop in the base of a bowl shaped valley. Methos said it was stupid tactics, Willow explained something about magic and ley lines and blah. He didn't believe in 'real' magic. Sure he'd seen what Willow could do but he didn't want to know. He trusted her when she said it made sense. Still, tactical fail.

Below a small house sat on top of a tunnel to the main compound which was underground. Yay for underground. He shoved the image of a live burial away, some memories were happily lost. Duos of soldiers patrolled on foot and on dual sport motorbikes.

"Idea?" He asked. Buffy grinned at Willow.

"Never mind, just tell me when to run." He sighed. He drew back to where Buffy's chosen slayers were waiting. Willow had explained to him how the 'scoobies' had empowered all potential slayers with the attributes of the one slayer. Thus wreaking havoc, eventually. First there was the whole destruction of Sunnydale yadda yadda yadda. The amazing amounts of damage and death the group of twenty-somethings had caused or prevented in their short tenure as world savers staggered the immortal. What had happened to angsty beer sessions at the student union?

Buffy gave him the thumbs up and the small band charged down hill toward the house. He had cautioned the girls to be careful in the dark, not get excited and trip. Then Andew had brought out the night vision goggles. Of course the fact that you could 'see' didn't mean much if you didn't take the time to look.

The first girl went down with a muffled squeal. Her partner rushed to her aid. Methos bit back a sigh. The girls were agile, fast, strong, battle hardened but still kids. Excited and eager to put a hurt on bad people. So they rushed, they didn't think, they got hurt and eventually they learned, if they didn't get killed. Happily Methos was relatively free of their shenanigans. He led the group down the hill and up to the house. Most made it just fine. He gave them twenty seconds to reach their positions and then moved to enter the house.

He half expected to find a nice pair of commandos playing house a la resident evil when he entered. The house was empty, surprisingly disappointed he made a quick search of the lower story and found a badly hidden door. Methos assumed there was some magical dohickey in place to hide it but whatever Willow had done had rendered it inert. Or so he thought until he touched the door handle. The door shattered and threw him down the hall and into the main room. He sat up enough to get a look at his chest. The wrist thick hunks of door impaling him were an unwelcome last sight.

" -up!" Buffy shouted. He gasped and coughed as life rushed back to him. He stared up at Buffy's half visible face as she hauled him upright. The girls had disabled or killed the guards giving them free rein of the house. Buffy wasn't paying him any attention as she hauled him up, but was shouting at the girls and Willow.

"Keep them out as long as you can! Board the windows up! Willow you have to get that door open!"

Methos looked at the doorway. There was a door in it. He looked at his chest. It was bloody and judging by the hunks of bloody wood festooning the area around him there had been a door in him too.

"Wha-"

"The door doesn't really exist, it's just a trigger and ammunition." Willow muttered between clenched teeth. She was staring at the door and concentrating.

"Oh." Methos said brilliantly as he got his feet under him. Buffy released his shirt once it was clear he wouldn't' fall over again. The sounds of combat drew his attention to his surroundings. The slayers were at the doors and windows battling something. He smelled death, a wall of it crashing down on him, death and decay. His stomach lurched and he rushed to the nearest window.

A dessicated yet slimy limb half bone and all disgusting lurched through the wall of girls and clawed at him. With a snarl he gripped it, ignoring the way his fingers sank into the fetid flesh, he hauled on the limb tearing it loose from it's mount and flinging it aside. The limb continued to claws spasmodically for a few seconds and then went limp.

"Goddamned zombies." He growled.

"Don't let them break your skin! No bites no scratches!" He shouted.

"Thank you so much for that Captain Obvious." One girl sneered. Methos strode toward her and hauled her away from the window. With a narrow gap available he lunged through the window and out into the horde. The slayers shared stunned expressions for a heartbeat.

"I'm fine! Get the door down!" Methos shouted. He was actually fine as well. He was using his sword to great effect against the lumbering horde. He made it at least a hundred zombies strong. He wasn't trying to take them all down, merely content to keep his flesh intact. He couldn't be infected with the zombie virus, or any other filthy infection the corpses might be carrying, but he did not fancy losing a limb or a chunk of flesh to them either.

He spun and severed a female zombies arms at the elbows. It's guttural complaint was lost in a clap of thunder.

"Bloody perfect." He growled and decapitated a male zombie that was trying to push past the female. Methos kept ducking and dodging. When the horde seemed to lose interest he would let out a bloodcurdling battle cry or charge a thick part of the horde and they would once again lose interest in the house. He tried to keep one eye on the house in case the girls managed to get the door down but it was risky.

More thunder rolled through the valley and the promise of rain finally came true. Fat viscous rain drops, warm and almost gelatinous to the touch fell. Methos' skin crawled as they touched him.

The horde had begun to thin whether through his actions or the failure of whatever curse or spell had vomited them forth he couldn't tell. Happy to be able to move closer to the house and presumably some sort of safety he took the chance. As he approached lightning flashed through the valley revealing unpleasant shapes in the flaccid clouds. He began to run toward the house. He aimed for the window he'd leapt from.

The slayers were still there, watching him or the weather he didn't care. He dove for the window and was grateful when their strong hands dragged him inside.

"That rain is fucked." He gasped catching his breath. His sword, clothing and face were festooned with a the strange thick rain and zombie goop. One of the girls pulled off a sweater and handed it to him. He peeled off his own sweater and used the girl's shirt to clean his face, head, neck and hands. He threw both garments out into the rain and stood with his white but clean undershirt facing the girls.

"Thanks." He said to the girl, Kim he thought her name was.

"Methos that was -"

"Idiotic but necessary, how many slayers were injured by the zombies?" He asked, his inner doctor emerging. Buffy gave him her thin lipped disapproving smile but nodded toward the center of the room. Two slayers were down another was tending them as best she could. Methos ignored Buffy and examined them.

Buffy was right, he'd been an idiot. They probably could have come up with an alternate plan but in his experience human leaders were unable or unwilling to factor his immortality into decisions. He'd grown used to using his initiative to insure he used his ability to the best of the group. Well, when it suited him at least.

One girl was done for. She'd been bitten on the forearm and the wound was already septic and stinking. She had to lose the arm, even a slayer's healing couldn't halt that infection. The other girl had been deeply scratched but seemed to be tolerating it better. He looked past the worst of the two and at Buffy. He could see she knew. He stood and walked the Slayer.

"I'll do it." He offered.

"No, Willow can heal her-"

"She has to get that door open, if she doesn't we're dead. The rain that's falling is unnatural, it started just as the horde started to thin out. I guarantee you something nastier is coming for us if we don't get through that door." He said quietly.

"She's my responsibility."

"So are the others and you only have basic first aid training. I've been to medical school." He counterargued. Never mind that he'd gone in the eleventh, or was it twelfth? Century. He knew enough to make a clean sterile cut and cauterize the wound.

"Buffy!" Willow cried. The immortal and the Slayer turned to her.

"I've almost got it, once it goes it's going to release a lot of energy."

"How much?" Methos asked. Willow spared him a worried glance.

"Will?" Buffy gently prodded.

"Too much." Willow said finally.

"Willow will it be kinetic energy? Can you make it electrical?" Methos asked urgently. Buffy frowned at him.

"Look I can absorb an immense charge-"

"We don't have time to wait for you to revive."

"It won't kill me, if she can make the energy electrical instead of an uncontrolled kinetic blast I can take it, she won't have to use her strength, maybe she can save the girl's arm." He hissed. It was unfair adding that last bit, but it might be true. Besides he _could_ take the charge, within reason. A Quickening was akin to hugging a transform and licking it. Not smart, or safe, or pleasant, but effective. He would live, whether he would be able to think or walk remained to be seen.

Buffy held his eye as she spoke to Willow.

"Will? Can you do it?"

"Yes, what happened to Kennedy?"

"She's with the others." Buffy said tightly. The wounded girl was important to Willow. Methos almost regretted suggesting taking the girl's arm but it was the smart choice, still was. He nodded at Buffy.

"Where should I stand?" He asked Willow.

"Next to me, when I tell you stand in front of me there won't be time to prepare." She warned. Sweat was beading on her upper lip.

He nodded. "I won't need time." He said and opened his Quickening, letting it seep out and welcome foreign energy. As soon as he settled into the strange freedom Willow ordered him to move.

Methos darted in front of her and the world lit up. It wasn't pain not really, it was a cleansing, it seared and fused him. Driving away the inconsequential, burning away pride, shame, and self. It went on forever and the length of a single heartbeat at once. He opened his eyes and the dark returned. He slumped to his knees. He could hear Buffy ordering the slayers to do..something...Willow was saying someone's name...he tried to open his eyes but they were heavy and sticky.

Someone was hauling on him, forcing him upright he managed to open his eyes. Buffy was half dragging him toward the door.

"The girl...her arm..." he muttered drunkenly.

"You said you wouldn't die." Buffy half accused half joked. He was beginning to think they had not brought enough slayers.

"The girl..." He babbled.

"Is fine." A voice interrupted and took the rest of his dead weight. It was the girl who'd been bitten. She looked fine, healthy even. He saw Willow behind her, she looked exhausted, whether it was breaking the 'door' or healing the girl he couldn't say. Hell he couldn't walk.

The group now back to full strength passed through the doorway. The girls who had fallen earlier on the hillside had retreated and evac'd according to the plan. He hoped they had. If not they had likely been zombie bait.

The would-be-heroes hurried into the tunnel. Dragging the semi conscious immortal with them. Somewhere Methos heard the British vampire ranting. He didn't remember seeing him during the zombie attack. Then Methos recalled how the horde had thinned suspiciously. The blond vamp caught up to Buffy. He was whining about zombie goop ruining his jacket.

"Shut up Spike, take him." Buffy said and dumped Methos on the vampire. Neither man was pleased with the situation but both kept their mouths shut. Methos couldn't function yet and Spike was stronger than the younger slayers and almost as tough as Methos so he could take the burden.

Methos sincerely hoped they had encountered the sum total of nasty tricks in the tunnel of love, although he doubted it.

"Hey hold up." He muttered to the vampire. Spike scowled but paused and leaned the immortal against the drab gray wall of the tunnel. The mini slayers filed past wide eyed and pleased to be zombie free for the moment.

"You gonna get your legs back soonish?" The vampire asked speculatively. He was handsome Methos decided. Smart, savage, and there was something between him and Buffy. Lovers? Whatever the case he was dangerous as well. Had taken Methos' beating with nothing more than a laugh.

"Gimme a second." Methos muttered. He was trying to slip into a shallow trance wherein he could hopefully get his Quickening to sort out the foreign magical energy and get him upright and fighting fit..ish.

Spike started to hum, irritatingly. Methos' lips thinned but he ignored the humming, then incorporated it into his trance. Finally he felt his Quickening, it was bucking, wild untamed, frightened. He focused on calming and guiding it. Once he felt it was okay to release it he did and opened his eyes. Spike was staring at him with flared nostrils and an expression suspiciously like hunger.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Methos snapped.

Spike looked guilty for a moment and then scowled.

"S'not my fault. When you pummeled me I got a taste a yeah." He pouted. Methos glared.

"Don't taste me, don't think about tasting me, in fact why don't you go taste yourself. Repeatedly." Methos growled.


	10. Deeper

"Boys? Cram it." Buffy growled.

Spike grinned stupidly at Methos. Methos opened his mouth to snark and settled for a weak sneer instead. He didn't have the energy to put the vampire in it's place. He felt his knees threaten to buckle and reflexively reached out for the wall. Spike gripped his wrist and held him steady.

For a moment the men locked eyes. Methos jerked his arm free and fell to his knees. The world grayed and blinked out.

"He's bloody 'eavy 'is wot 'e is!" Spike snapped. Effort and annoyance had turned his normal accent into a caricature performance. Methos remained limp, listening to the vampire struggle to continue hauling him along. Why was he breathless? Did he breathe?

"Wakey wakey beautiful." Spike snapped and dropped Methos on his ass. The immortal controlled his temper and tried to figure out where they were.

The tunnel was long gone. They were traipsing through a child's idea of a forest, ripped right from Disney. Too bright colors, birds perfectly in key with none of the raucous warning cries or clacks of natural bird song, impossibly bright and beautiful flowers….

"Where's Walt?" Methos asked surprised and disturbed by his croaking voice.

Buffy sighed and got him upright. He felt better, still weak but he could think and walk. He shrugged Buffy's hands away although he noted a slight tremor in her hands as she drew back.

"What's our status?" He asked eyeing Spike closely. The group looked exhausted, and gaunt. They were thin not starvation thin but certainly a week shy of good meals thin. Spike looked like he was going to lose it soon.

"We've been on the move for oh a week maybe." Buffy admitted. Methos was stunned.

"I've been down for a week?" He asked incredulous. The group just stared at him with flat, exhausted lizard eyes. He nodded.

"Disney or not there has to be something edible around here." He said.

"For you lot probably." Spike hissed. Methos glanced at him.

"How long can he go?" He asked Buffy.

"Not much longer." Spike interrupted. Methos studied the tension in the vampire's face and nodded. He hated the idea of this. Stomach churned at it, but the vampire was in a bad way and had apparently been dragging him for a week.

Moving so fast that Buffy didn't have time to intervene Methos tore a sleeve off his shirt and thrust his wrist at Spike. The ravenous vampire needed no further encouragement in less than a second his face had morphed and he was latched on to Methos' wrist. As the immortal and vampire sank to their knees in a bizarre embrace Methos wondered where his recent altruism had sprung from. As nausea and weakness – telltale signs of blood loss- set in Methos jerked his wrist away from Spike. Spike raised his bloody monstrous face to the crystal blue of the Disney sky and let out a low, almost sexual, moan.

Methos twisted his face away from the vampire's ecstasy and was violently sick. His empty stomach produced a thin gruel of bile and saliva. He groaned and got to his feet. Buffy moved to assist him. He shook his head. He didn't want to be touched. He could feel his wrist healing as the group started to move again. Spike had the sense to avoid Methos' line of sight.

After awhile Buffy drifted up to Methos' elbow.

"That was…"

"Necessary." Methos sighed. He didn't want admiration, pity or any of the rest of it. He wanted out of this world, away from its monsters and back to his own place. Back to where the only demon was the idiot Ahriman, where the scariest thing in the dark was his Horseman. Buffy quietly shadowed him content in silence.

As the hours dragged on and the sun never changed position Methos began to grow frustrated.

"How long have you been stuck here?" He asked quietly.

"Willow thinks it's been a week of time here."

"Here?"

"She thinks we're in a micro universe, a secondary trap in the tunnel."

"Shit, that means decades could have passed in my world."

"I know, I'm sorry, Willow is trying to find a way out-"

Methos shoved past Buffy and moved toward Willow. Buffy scowled and followed.

"Watch the hands buddy." She hissed as she closed in on him again.

"It's not just magic, there's something else at work here." Willow was explaining. Methos nodded.

"Perception. Look, if we stop and take a break can you try to bring this thing down?"

"We've-"

"Been trying, yes I know but what if while you attack it's physical presence the rest of us attack it's appearance?"

Willow frowned.

"Well, that would mean-""

"That it's only as strong or as hellish as we make it, yes."

"Okay."

"Will can this work?" Buffy asked. Willow nodded once tightly.

"It might."

The band drew together and settled onto the mattress soft ground. Methos felt exhaustion and blood loss conspiring to drag him back to the gray. He ignored it and focused on the group.

"I think most of you are somewhat familiar with meditation. What we're going to do is similar. We need to think about reality, about dull, cold, cruel, pointless reality. Cold rain, hard chairs, bad food, reality." Methos said sternly. Xander was frowning at him.

For a moment Methos wondered if he could kill the boy and still get out of this nightmare fantasy alive, let alone back to his own realm. He sincerely doubted it. Shelving the impulse he led the group into a trance. Willow sat in the rough center of the group and did her thing.

At first all was still and quiet. The quiet went on for what felt like hours, then, all at once with a terrific sound like a hundred jumbo jets hitting a mountainside the world _tore._ Methos' eyes snapped open like window shades. They were in the tunnel. Behind them it disappeared in a straight relentless line, ahead it stretch on into darkness.

"Good days work." Methos grumbled and got up. Relieved laughs and excited chatter rippled through the micro army. Methos let them have this small victory. They were still screwed he thought, they were free of the delusion but they still lacked food and water and gods alone knew what else lay in wait for them. Still, he felt a bit better himself. He caught sight of Spike, separate from the group. He loathed the creature, what it represented, but it was useful and keeping it happy could keep things smooth.

"You all right?" Methos asked the blond. The vampire glanced over its shoulder at him and sneered. He looked better, fuller, brighter.

"S'a good thing you've not got any of me in your place mate, let me tell yeah if you did you'd have more to worry about than a bit of decapitation." Spike hissed. His face twisted into its bestial form and the vampire lunged at Methos.


	11. Hot

Buffy snatched Spike out of the air by his collar and pinned him to the ground. Methos backpedaled and backed into Xander. The younger man shoved Methos away reflexively and moved to help Buffy. Spike was writhing and bucking like a seizure victim as Buffy tried to pin him down.

Methos cursed and moved to assist. Spike snarled and broke free from Buffy – no small feat- and leapt at Methos. The immortal dodged the incensed Vampire. Or he thought he had. As Spike launched over Methos he landed neatly three feet behind the immortal and lashed out to wrap an inhumanly powerful arm around the immortal's throat.

If there was one thing an immortal learned well and early, it was to defend his neck. Methos instinctively ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders up to his ears preventing Spike from throttling him. The Vampire managed to crush his nose with enough force that it exploded like an overripe tomato against his face. As the immortal's blood soaked Spike's forearm and wrist the vampire snatched his arm back as though he'd been bitten or burned.

Spike cackled and began biting and tearing at the blood on his clothing and skin. Methos was blinded by blood, tears and pain. Xander hauled him away from Spike with one hand and pulled Buffy to her feet with the other. As Xander hauled the two out of the way the remaining slayers closed in on Spike. The Vampire was soon subdued but not calmed.

An amazing array of belts, bracelets, shoe laces, jackets and anything that could be used to tie him festooned the vampire like confetti. The dozen or so young slayers looked breathless and peeved.

"Whad wud dad?" Methos demanded pawing at his crushed nose. It was healing but it hurt like a bitch. He spat out half congealed blood and glared at the incensed vampire.

"There are no vampires in your world right?" Xander asked rhetorically. He still had a hand on Methos' arm. Methos glared at Xander through a mask of blood and nodded once.

"So as far as anyone knows a vampire has never had an immortal's blood before." He muttered more to himself than to Methos. The immortal felt a chill followed by a hot wash of shame and embarrassment.

"Idz addigdive." He suggested. Xander and Willow nodded almost in unison.

"Grad now whud?" Methos asked wiping at his face with his bare hand.

"Well, we're stuck underground with an immortal idiot, an insane vampire, no food or water and –"

"I ged it smard azz." Methos growled. Well, not really Methos. Almost since Buffy had first jumped Methos a version of Adam had been running things. Methos, the horseman, the strategic genius, the warlord was taking a siesta.

Xander glared at Methos reached out, gripped the immortal's nose and hauled on it once, sharp and hard. There was a sick crack and Methos drew in a deep breath. The rest of the group winced at the sound.

"Ouch." Methos complained as a pale blue light crawled over his shattered nose knitting it together.

Xander ignored him.

"We need to go back. " Buffy sighed.

" What makes you think you can make it?" Methos asked curiously.

"Don't you mean we?" Xander asked.

"No, not really. Look if you lot die then my friends go free, and I'm immortal. It will take a great deal more than a bit of deprivation to put me down for good."

"I've got a sword." The young slayer, Kim. Sneered. The brunette who had nearly lost her arm was hovering near Willow but she spared Methos a hostile glare.

"Nothing personal kids, fact is a fact. " Methos shrugged. As he dropped his shoulders a light appeared at the end of the hallway. Literally. The slayers perked up and Methos turned toward it.

"Mr. Pierson, you've done very well, very well indeed." It was the face's voice. Methos bristled and strode toward the light.

"No need for that Mr. Pierson, I am not physically here. If you and your new friends –if I may call them that – would like to be free of this dull place, please, step into the light."

Methos held up a hand motioning the others back away from it.

"You let them go, back to Cleveland and leave them alone. You take me back to where I belong and leave me alone. "

"Or?"

"Or I kill you."

"Kill me? You can't even find me-" The face fell quiet with a disturbing abruptness. Methos glanced back at his companions, willow was holding her hands palm up and chanting. Methos didn't waste time asking questions. He raced toward the light, the majority of the slayers followed him. Buffy, Xander, and Kennedy stayed with Willow.

The light was a doorway, crumpled in front of it was a man. Or something man shaped. It was obsidian black and steaming. Methos made a mental note to never fuck with the little red head and kept running. Answers were beyond that light. He knew that. As he hit the light he felt his skin tingle.

The light beyond was familiar. He felt his heart sink. He was back in the desert. Only now he didn't have any gear. He glanced behind him hopefully but the doorway was gone. He hung his head and cursed. The sun was creeping toward the horizon, it would be dark soon and freezing.

He started walking only to hear a startled screech behind him. The boy, Xander, was half kneeling in the coarse sand, one arm dramatically shielding his eyes from the searing sun. Company was something Methos supposed. He waited to see if anyone else would appear, he thought he could see the outline of a woman but it shimmered and faded in the sunlight.

"I really don't like you." Xander sighed and got to his feet as Methos studied him.

"I don't mind you." Methos said pulling his tattered shirt over his head and wrapping it in a clumsy turban. Xander gawked at the taller man's ultra pale skin.

"You're gonna fry lobster man." He observer wryly.

"I'm immortal, keep up." Methos sighed and started walking. Xander scowled but dutifully followed the immortal.

"Y'know if we wait Buffy and Willow will probably find us."

"No, they won't. Look remember when I told you about the desert they kicked me out in? Well guess where we are."

"So we walk to civilization-"

"Somehow I doubt this is still your world." Methos interrupted.

"Uhm why? What are you a Slider?" Xander asked with a snicker. Methos glared at him briefly. The boy spouted random pop culture references as easily as he breathed.

"Instinct." Methos said shortly. Xander opened his mouth to argue, or babble, or make a joke. Methos pressed his forefinger to the boy's dry lips and shook his head.

"Save your breath, and your moisture." Methos murmured looking over Harris' shoulder and back toward the patch of sand they'd emerged on. The female outline was back. Xander followed Methos' gaze and raced toward it.

Methos spent less than half a second pondering ordering the boy to walk in the heat, but the shimmering image had solidified in to Willow. Only it wasn't Willow, not _their _ Willow. She was older, scarred and there was no joy or mirth in her features.

"Will!" Xander cried happily.

"Alexander." She intoned with all the dignity of a noble warrior and nodded at him. He blinked and glanced at Methos.

"She's not our Willow, Harris." Methos said quietly. Xander had, of course, realized this by now, had likely known it from the moment she had appeared. Still, outside confirmation was nice.

"You are lost, I can help you find your way home, both of your homes but you must be fast and listen well."

Methos thought about pointing out his eidetic memory but didn't bother.

"You will have two choices to make. Each time take the harder path." She hissed at Xander.

She turned to Methos, her expression unmistakably one of loathing.

"Madman, murderer, raper, child slayer, you will also have two choices. Do as you like."

"Now, are you saying that because it really doesn't matter, or because you despise me?" He smirked. She swallowed hard, her face twitched and she spoke.

"The first choice will cost you dearly, listen to Duncan." She shimmered and was gone.

"O-kay." Xander drawled and looked up at Methos.

"Nice hat, what now?"

"Find civilization." Methos said shortly.

"Is –"

"What she said true? I'm old kid you live long enough anything seems reasonable under the right circumstances. "

"So you've murdered children?"

"Where do you see this conversation going?" Methos asked. Xander frowned.

"You find out I was a monster and hate me, or you find out I was a monster and want to know what 'fixed' me. Either way I'm not interested." Methos growled.


	12. Ugh

Methos was beginning to think the desert was alive, alive and malevolent. He had spent centuries in deserts. Originally the Horsemen had hunted among well watered lands, as their prey developed better defenses and banded together in defense the quartet had been forced into arid land. Hunting small bands and traders, nomad tribes and occasionally other groups like themselves. So, he had spent more than a few years in various deserts. This, was the worst.

"Y'know the driest desert on Earth is in Chile? Truth-"

"Stop. Talking." Methos hissed. Xander thought he heard a note of pleading in the immortal's voice.

"Why? We're going to die-"

"You're going to die-"

"So, how does that work? Will you like die and shrivel into a mummy and come back once it rains? Or will you be stuck all shriveled and pathetic until someone sticks you in an exhibit and like, a fire alarm goes off and-"

Methos stared at Xander helplessly. The boy was suffering from severe dehydration. Methos had been slipping the boy the majority of his own water ration whenever they found water, but it hadn't been enough. Harris was dying. The fact that Methos was as well didn't bother the immortal as much. He would bounce back…eventually.

"Xander, listen to me. When you talk you use breath, your breath is moist, you're wasting water, for your own sake, shutup."

Xander's skin was papery and pale under strips of peeling sunburned skin, his lips were cracked and cut, eyes dull and almost unseeing. He ran a paper dry tongue across his battered lips and blinked slowly at Methos.

The immortal slipped an around the boy and kept him moving. They had maybe two full days before one of them dropped.

Methos had been heading downhill, toward what logic said would be lowlands and water. Along the way he had used his skills to forage moisture heavy roots and other water sources but it hadn't been enough. If he had been solo he might've made it.

Methos wouldn't let Harris die without a fight. He owed the kid that much. He might have a motor mouth but he was a good man and he deserved a decent death.

Methos stumbled, distracted by his morbid thoughts, and nearly dropped Harris. Off balance he dropped to one knee burying his free hand in the sand to keep from face planting. His fingertips felt liquid. Xander was on his knees, half leaning on Methos. He was quiet but conscious.

Methos hauled dry sand away and revealed darker damp sand. It didn't mean much but it was hope.

"Looks good enough to chew." Xander said wanly and smiled.

Methos returned the boy's smile although he felt his lips split at the gesture. Hope sprang eternal, as did the kid's optimism.

Methos carefully dug deeper. He was disappointed to find no specific water source but he was still hopeful. He stood up and studied the lay of the land. He had continued heading downhill and was hoping this was a sign that they were reaching a source of groundwater.

Leaning on each other the men kept moving. The sun crawled to the horizon, promising a cessation of heat and the onset of winter cold as the moisture free air lost heat at a dangerous pace. Half an hour after sunset both men were shivering, using precious energy they couldn't afford to lose.

Methos was cursing the day he agreed to help John, cursing his love of beer, cursing any and every god's name he could recall – when he stepped in a puddle.

Methos immediately dropped to his knees and tasted the water. It was gritty, tepid, and stagnant but not toxic. He raised his head and nodded at Xander. The boy plunged in. Within moments they had drained the puddle.

"Best taste ever." Xander sighed. Methos hoped the mortal hadn't picked up any bacteria or microbes but it couldn't be helped. Methos waited to see if the puddle would refill, it didn't so he dug into the sand and was pleased to find more water. He encouraged Xander to drink slowly. It was difficult but Xander realized he risked throwing it up if he wasn't careful. They stayed by the puddle drinking and digging and pausing to rest until almost dawn.

Methos was filling a shriveled gourd they'd found with the last of the water when Xander spoke.

"We aren't going to make it are we?" There was no banter in his tone.

"I'm five thousand years old Xander. I never give up. You'll make it –"

"Not without your help. I know you've been giving me extra water when you think I won't notice."

Methos remained silent. There was no point in arguing about it. He would keep doing it and since Xander wasn't stupid and wanted to live he'd keep taking it.

"I.."

"I don't deal in absolutes kid, I deal in facts, fact is we should've been dead three days after walking into that light. Maybe we won't make it but by my count we've been out here for a month and we're still here."

"Okay." Xander said quietly.

By dawn they were on the move again.

* * *

"He took Xander!" Buffy snarled. Her fears had been justified after all. The pseudo demon – cum-tv character had kidnapped Xander.

"No he didn't." Willow said shakily. She had a hand to her forehead and Kennedy was standing behind her, a supporting hand on her shoulder. Willow shrugged the hand away absently and looked Buffy in the eye.

"It's my fault, I was trying to isolate the man from Methos' world, trying to keep him here and force the portal open longer. Someone on the other end severed the connection, there was a massive backlash of energy and…" Willow's gaze drifted toward the charred remnants of the pan-dimensional Initiative's agent.

"How do we get them back?" Buffy asked tightly. She was frustrated that Willow had acted without thinking or asking for input but mostly pissed that Xander was missing.

"I…I'm not sure. We need to find Methos' world, then find them …assuming they both made it safely through."

"First we have to get out of here." Kennedy interrupted. She didn't like the way Buffy was looking at Willow. Buffy flicked her gaze at Kennedy and held the other Slayer's gaze for a heartbeat.

"Spike, check ahead, see if there's an exit." Buffy ordered. The vampire was still festooned like a piñata.

"Untie him." She nodded at Kennedy. Let the angry slayer use her anger and strength on the vampire, assuming he was still freaking out.

Spike remained still while Kennedy slowly untied him. His face was smeared with dried blood and his eyes glittered disturbingly but he behaved. He raised his head and sniffed the air for a moment before tearing off toward the charred remnants of the Initiative's stooge and further down the hall.

Buffy followed him, slowly the other slayers and a shell shocked Willow followed. No one looked at the still steaming meat that had once been a human.

Methos tripped over the road. Tables had turned, in the three days since the duo had found the water Methos had deteriorated. He was stumbling and half blind. The edge of the road was raised just enough to catch him off guard. He fell forward, full length on the sand swept, sun heated concrete.

"A road!" Xander said cheerfully. He ignored Methos for a moment and studied the road. It wasn't well traveled but they would make better time on it. They had an hour or so before sunset.

"Rest or keep going?" Xander asked as he helped Methos upright.

"Rest." Methos croaked. Xander reached for the water gourd. Methos waved a dismissive hand.

"Dude, you might be immortal but I'm not and if you bite it I'm screwed so take some damn water."

Methos reluctantly accepted a mouthful. Xander maneuvered them into the dismal shade of a large spiny bush near the edge of the road and waited for sunset.

"Help me up." Methos whispered. Xander did and together they hobbled along the road, hoping for a passing car.

An hour later they were nearly hit by a semi-truck. Happily the driver managed to avoid them, unfortunately , he didn't stop and offer them a ride. Methos let out a dry hacking cough that was meant to be laughter.

"Feel free to never make that noise, ever again." Xander grumbled.

The next truck did stop.

"You fellas look rough." The driver said staring at them. Xander remained silent and helped Methos into the cab. The trucker studied them as they climbed in.

"Sheee-it, rough don't cut it, I'm swinging by the county hospital for a pickup fellas –"

"Where are we?" Methos asked hoarsely.

"Nevada."

"How far from Vegas?" Methos asked again. Xander remained silent.

"'Bout an hour but-"

"Take us to the Rialto, ten grand for your toubles." Methos hissed.

The driver put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the road.


	13. We Have Achieved Normality

Spike found a door. The door apparently angered him. By the time Buffy and the rest of the Slayers had reached him the door was misshapen from Spike battering and clawing at it. He was still hurling himself at it when Buffy yelled at him to stop. He glared at her, his face twisted into the demon's face.

"Spike! Stop it." Buffy ordered. He glared at her but obeyed.

"Will can you get it open?" Buffy.

"I..maybe."

Buffy sighed and ran a hand along its battered seams. It was possible that along with several of the other slayers they could force it open. She studied her little band for a moment and then nodded at them. Without being told the girls each positioned themselves around the door and began to pull. With a shrieking grinding wail the door slowly heaved and gave way. The slayers managed to pull it free of it's frame…and its hinges.

Spike darted through in an instant. Buffy clenched her jaw and followed. Willow hung back still shaken by her part in losing Xander and Methos. Kennedy hovered near her concerned.

"Will?"

"Help Buffy." She said softly. Kennedy frowned and took Willow's arm.

"You couldn't know-"

"It doesn't matter Kennedy, Xander could be trapped or…or dead and I…it's _my_ fault."

They heard a scream far off. It echoed through the doorway. The slayers took off at a fast trot. Exhausted, hungry, and battered but efficient and well trained. Buffy spared the energy to be proud of them for a moment. The hall beyond the door was identical to the one they'd just left, albeit shorter. At the end they could see an open doorway filled with sunlight. The scream had been Spike.

Running on the blood of an immortal he had rushed into the light heedless of his vulnerability. The searing rays had brought him up short and driven him back into the hall. He was huddled just beyond the light whimpering and hissing moronically.

"Great." Buffy sighed. She carefully approached Spike. He was badly burned, his eyes rolling in pain and rage as she approached. His face was a morass of charred skin and exposed meat.

"Good thing I haven't eaten in days." Kim muttered. Kennedy shot her an annoyed glare.

Buffy knelt in front of Spike and murmured to him. He calmed down slowly. His flesh knit back together until he was kneeling in front of Buffy panting and human in appearance.

"Okay, we need to wait until sunset-"

"Buffy, uhm, I don't think we should go through-"

Buffy looked up at Willow and tried to keep her cool.

"I…I don't think that's our world. I …I think it's his." She didn't need to say that the 'he' in question was Methos.

"We can't go back Willow we need-"

"Food, water, information, sleep, weapons-" Spike muttered.

"Not helping." Buffy said gently. Spike shuddered and twitched and turned away from Buffy. Great a vamp in withdrawals.

"Look, we can't go anywhere until nightfall anyway. Everyone grab some floor and hit the sack. We'll take turns on watch." Buffy ordered. She really, really, really wanted to be back in Cleveland fighting some slimy disgusting sewer demons right now. She took first watch, and second, and third.

She watched Spike. He was asleep. She watched his jaws flex and arms twitch as he dreamed. Was he dreaming of killing her predecessor? Robin's mother? Was he dreaming of the girl in China? Maybe he was dreaming of –

He whimpered in his sleep and raised a hand as though to defend himself. She made soothing noises and ran the back of her fingers along his chiseled jaw. He was certainly an attractive man…being. She hated him and cared for him. Almost in equal measure, he had tried to rape her, loved her even when he had no soul…

She pulled her hand away from him and forced herself to watch the sunlit doorway. Hours had passed and the sun hadn't changed. Beyond the door a vast sandscape stretched to the horizon. Spike couldn't travel out there, not without dying in agony. Even if that hellish sun ever set it would rise again and he would still burn, even under blankets he would roast, slowly.

She felt sick to her stomach.

"Willow?" She asked quietly.

Willow slipped away from Kennedy and gingerly stepped through the prone bodies of the slayers and sat next to Buffy. The girls clasped hands, their mutual worry and friendship overcoming bad feelings for a moment.

"Can…can you do anything to help Spike?"

"With the sun?" Willow whispered. Buffy nodded.

"I don't know, I can try, I'm not sure if magic will work there, or how."

"Oh Will, what are we going to do?" Buffy sighed.

"What we always do, win." Willow said quietly.

Eventually the sun did set. The moon rose and the group set out. A few hours of sleep had worked wonders. Not everyone was happy to be on the other side of the door but they all realized that without food and water their days were numbered either way. Spike ranged ahead like a restless wolf. Buffy encouraged him to look for shelter whenever possible. None of them knew how long the night would last or what they would do to keep Spike alive once the sun rose.

"Willow-"

"I'm trying Buffy." Willow said plaintively. She was working on a seeking spell she had perfected years before back in their world. If she could get it to work here she should be able to use it to find water and Xander. But this world was…wrong…there was nothing, no gaia, no magic.

"Spike…what are we going to do?"

"Send him back-"

"No." Spike interrupted. He ahead of them blocking their path.

"Spike-"

"Shut up, this here ain't our world, so why should the sun burn me?" He demanded.

"But it did-"

"No, I was burned in our world. I never crossed into this world's sun, the light crossed the doorway." He said calmly.

"Spike if you're wrong."

"I die in burning agony." Part of her felt a fierce glee at that thought. The picture of his ravaged face returned to her.

"Buffy, I think he's right." Willow suggested tentatively.

"There's no magic here." She pointed out.

"But it's the demon that burns-"Buffy argued.

"I don't feel it." Spike said softly.

"The hunger, the hate, the empty greed, it's all gone." His voice was different. Smoother, gentler, almost timid. She studied him in the strong moonlight. His features were…kinder. The arrogance and cruelty, the ferocity had faded. His eyes were clear, the omnipresent sneer was gone a shy smile in it's place.

"William?" Buffy asked stunned.

"I suppose so." He admitted.

It was like staring at a ghost, or a portrait of a faded aristocrat. This man…he was dead, had been for centuries until Spike had inadvertently earned his soul back. She had seen glimpses of William like seeing a stray cat fleeing through an abandoned lot, a flash of tail here, a paw there. But, she had never really _seen_ William, until now.

"Spike?" She asked.

"He's here…in some part." He admitted.

"What does this mean?" Kim asked.

"I'm not sure." Buffy admitted. Would they still have Slayer strength, stamina, and healing?

"Kim lift…Spike up." She wasn't sure what to call him anymore.

Kim grabbed Spike's lapels and hauled. He stayed put. The girls began to murmur, Kim tried again, then each of the slayers in turn and finally Buffy. They couldn't lift him.

"This…is bad." Kennedy whispered.


	14. Seeking Sanctuary

It took three months for the duo to regain their strength and health. Obviously Methos recovered more quickly than Xander, nonetheless the ordeal had hit the immortal hard as well. They were in Methos' world now. Two weeks after getting out of the desert Methos had run into an old 'friend' and nearly lost his head.

He had contacted Amanda, Joe, and Macleod, each of them were fine and hadn't been bothered by any strangers. Methos was relieved but pissed off. He'd been trying to get ahold of anyone involved with the Sanctuary since then. No one would return his calls or meet with him. He didn't dare leave Xander so they waited. Once Xander healed the two would go to Magnus and get some straight answers.

So Methos waited. He had feelers out in the scientific world and what little of the magic world he could confirm as legit, which wasn't much, in an attempt to find a way back to Xander's world. Magic it seemed, was just not a powerful thing in Methos world. It could achieve some small things but was nothing compared to what Willow could do.

Xander was sleeping, he did a lot of that. He'd been on the verge of organ failure when Methos' private doctor had finally gotten his ass in gear.

Methos dozed off sitting next to Xander's bed. He dreamed they were in the desert again, only this time he couldn't find any water. Nothing, not a drop. He watched as Xander faded and died in agony.

"Xander!" he shouted waking himself up.

"I'm right here, no need to shout." Xander grumbled. Methos sat up and smiled at Xander.

"Bad dream." Methos said.

"When can we get out of here?" Xander asked.

"Soon as you're on your feet."

"Then let's go, look it's going to take forever for me to be a hundred percent again, let's just get to the Sanctuary and find out how to get back to my people, okay?"

Methos frowned.

"Fine, but only if Franks says you can travel."

The doctor arrived and declared Xander weak but fit for travel. Methos paid him off and the two packed quickly. They were on the way to the airport in less than an hour.

The Sanctuary security was as tight as ever. Methos leaned on the call box at the gate and screamed for Magnus. Finally after what felt like an eternity the gate clicked open. He and Xander left their rental at the gate and walked up to the main building.

Xander was winded and pale when they reached the door. A man creature, a yeti or maybe bigfoot opened the door and escorted them inside.

"I need to speak to Magnus immediately." Methos snapped as he helped Xander sit. The big man thing nodded gracefully and spoke.

"Certainly, please make yourselves at home I will have refreshments brought, does your friend need medical attention?"

"Just get us Magnus." Methos snapped. The man faded as Methos turned his attention back to Xander.

"I'm fine mother hen." Xander grumbled.

"Who are you?" Magnus demanded. She was flanked by two well armed strangers, security?

"Where is Druitt? Did you know what he was planning?" Methos demanded angrily. Magnus looked angry and then confused.

"I asked you a question." Magnus said coldly.

"You know who I bloody well am Magnus! Druitt set me up! He nearly got me killed!"

"NO! You are not who you appear to be! You can't be! Ben Johnson is lying dead in our morgue, he has been for months!" Magnus snarled.

Methos' jaw dropped open and his knees felt weak.

"What?" Methos asked helplessly.

"Come with me." Magnus ordered. Methos obeyed automatically, Xander limping behind him. They followed Magnus through the Sanctuary and into its bowels and finally the morgue. She pulled a tray out of a bank of drawers.

A sheet draped corpse was revealed. She jerked the cloth free and revealed…Methos. The body was pale and cool but had not appeared to rot or decay in any way.

"Wh-what?" Methos stammered staring at himself. Unconsciously he reached toward the corpse, felt his fingertips brush the flesh and then – nothing. A flash of bright light and pain and then nothingness.

He gasped and sat up. The sheet fell away from his body, and he shivered, naked in the cold air.

"What the fuck?" Xander gasped. Methos stared around. There was a pile of clothes on the ground where Methos had been standing.

"Ben?" Magnus asked, eyes wide.

"What the hell is going on here?" Methos demanded. He pulled the sheet around his waist and slid off the steel tray, the cold metal clung to his bare flesh. His legs buckled under him as he tried to stand.

"Take it easy Ben, you're body has been inactive for months, you have no strength."

"What's going on Magnus, what the bloody hell is going on, and where is John?"

Magnus' face clouded with pain.

"Ashley and John are dead Ben." She said calmly.

"What? How?" He demanded.

Magnus helped Methos and Xander to the infirmary with the help of the big hairy man they'd met at the door. Will still hadn't made an appearance. As they walked Magnus explained how Ashley had been turned and how she'd died, and then how John had sacrificed himself to capture and destroy the bizarre murderous creature that had ridden him and forced him to murder so often.

Methos was stunned. The pretty strong girl he'd seen on the Island was gone. John, his love, his enemy was gone. He'd been dead or something like it for months and yet lived and thrived in another world. He needed a drink.

"Magnus I… I'm so very sorry." Methos said gently, clasping Helen's hands in his own. A single tear fell on their joined hands.

"Where does this leave us?" Xander interrupted.

"Tell me what's happened to you." Magnus insisted.

Methos did his best. Xander jumped in to answer questions and fill in details Methos missed. Between the two of them Magnus gained a pretty clear idea of the rollercoaster their lives had been on since she'd last seen Methos.

"Well, I think the best thing right now is to run some tests and let you two get some sleep." Magnus suggested.

"Where's Will?" Methos asked.

"On his way. He was out on assignment when you arrived." Magnus said preparing a syringe. Methos nodded and watched her draw blood. The big hairy abnormal swabbed Methos' chest and attached electrodes. He seemed like a competent assistant.

"I'm sorry if I was rude to you earlier, I apologize, it wasn't necessary." Methos said softly.

"Thank you, for your apology, it is unnecessary. Please allow me to work." His voice was rough but intelligent and kind." Methos nodded. Satisfied the air had been cleared.

"I'm going to give you both a mild sedative." Magnus said inserting a needle into Methos' I.V.

"Helen, I trust you, but the last time I was here I ended up in a cage. I'd rather not sleep."

"I understand your feelings Ben, but your body is exhausted, it's been dormant for months, you need to rest or risk overtaxing it. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, although, well, since the Island my Quickening has felt … odd, now it doesn't it feels fine and strong."

"Good, perhaps it can help you regain your strength. I won't sedate you if you promise me you'll sleep."

Methos nodded, Magnus moved to Xander.

Methos slept and did not dream. When he woke Magnus was at his side.

"Good morning, I trust you slept well?"

"Very, didn't dope me when I wasn't looking?"

"Considering how stressed and worn out your body was its small wonder you slept well." Magnus mused.

"Is Will here?"

"Yes he arrived a few hours ago, he should be down soon." Magnus said glancing up from the various monitors spitting out readings.

"How is Xander?"

"Ill, but getting better. He says the two of you nearly died in the desert near Las Vegas."

"We did."

"The best I can figure is that when you crossed that fence the second time your body and soul were somehow separated, your body was thrown in to a secondary universe."

"It seemed more planned than that."

"I agree but I'm not sure how it could have been planned."

"Well maybe Gumby slipped into that universe's version of himself, and when we were tossed into this world that my Gumby stayed behind, or never made it and died." Xander suggested.

"So, that would mean that the John of your world and this Initiative already had a deal set up to draw their Ben into this nonsense, and when the perimeter hit our Ben it thrust him into their Ben?"

"Yeah, why not?"

"So, when you were thrust back into this world, their Ben died or was left behind, leaving ours, but then, why would he have a corporeal body?"

Xander shrugged.

"You're the scientist Dr. Magnus."

"Sorry I'm late." Will said entering the infirmary. He froze when he saw Methos.

"Wow, Magnus told me but, wow." Will said in wonder.

"Will Zimmerman, meet Xander Harris, demon fighter, smart ass, would be assassination victim, Xander Harris, Will Zimmerman, genius, hyper observant, protégé and heir apparent of Dr. Magnus." Will smiled and nodded at Xander.

"Will, I'm sorry about John and Ashley." Methos said gently. Pain flickered across Will's features and he nodded.

"Thank you, it couldn't have been easy to find out." Will said kindly.

"Nothing about the last eight months or so has been easy. Honestly I can't help but wonder what would've happened if I'd told John to fuck off in Paris."

"I would've come to see you myself and forced you into assisting us Ben." Magnus said coolly.

Methos didn't feel like arguing.

"Can you get me home?" Xander asked.

"I don't know. The only teleporter I knew of was John, Ashley manifested the ability shortly before her death." Magnus sighed.

Xander sighed and closed his eyes.

It was what he was afraid of.


	15. Suspicions and Accusations

William was a bizarre contrast. His punk look was almost completely at odds with his personality. The angry edge was still there but the cynicism and spite were gone. He was a great morale booster. Thanks to him the group had found shelter in an abandoned diner as well as water. The group had stocked up and moved on. Now they were eyeballing what looked like a hobo's camp.

"We can't just raid it, those people need food and water like anyone else." Buffy argued.

"If we don't we'll die." Kim snapped. A fissure had begun to divide the group, largely instigated by Kim.

"We aren't criminals Kim! We're refugees at best, we are not going to rob those people, we'll ask for help –"

"No. We're going to survive." Kim hissed.

"Why don't I go down and talk to them? If they refuse to help or offer violence of any kind then you ladies can save me." William suggested.

Buffy nodded, once again William had kept the two women from blows.

"So you can't get me back home?"

"Not yet. We're still trying to find a way. Look Xander, this is completely new territory, even for us. We aren't giving up, we won't but it's going to take some time."

"I understand that Dr. Magnus, look when I'm up and at 'em again I want to help you out, do some work around the Sanctuary, maybe be Henry's assistant I owe you."

"That's kind of you and I'm sure Henry could use the help."

"What about Tesla?" Methos asked. He was on a treadmill, Magnus was insuring his stamina and heart were still good.

"He's off the grid, I've sent messages and made it known I need his help but I haven't heard back yet."

"Typical, the one time the psychotic little bugger could be of use. " Methos grunted.

"Wait, _the_ Tesla?" Xander asked. Tesla wasn't normally someone Xander would have an interest in, but since his best friend – Willow – was a hyper nerd and Nikola Tesla had popped up in popular culture often enough Xander had taken an interest.

"Why isn't he dead?" Xander asked intrigued.

Methos arched an eyebrow at Magnus.

"You didn't tell him anything did you?" Magnus chided Methos.

"I told him enough." Methos grunted and picked up a book he'd been reading. Magnus clucked her tongue and peeled off her rubber gloves.

"Have you heard of vampires?" Magnus asked.

"So you lot are lost in the desert?" The cop asked.

"That's right officer, we didn't mean any harm, we were just looking for help."

"And you ended up lost in the desert after getting chased into an underground tunnel by a gang of motorcycle toughs?" The cop asked dubiously.

"Yes sir." The group chorused.

The cop had been checking in on the hobo camp. A courtesy check encouraged by the nearby cities and the county. No one wanted a pack of angry hobos showing up at town hall. He'd seen the twenty or so people and been curious and concerned.

"Right, well, tell you what I'll have my people come on out here and we'll see what we can do for yeah." He grunted and radioed for backup and a paddy wagon or three.

"Xander Harris, he's a nerdy looking guy with one eye! You can't have had too many of them just appear in the desert!" Buffy growled at the cop. He had overseen the arrest and booking of each of the strange youths and was now arguing with their ringleader.

"And I'm tellin yeah lady, we ain't got no reports of no one named Alex, Alexander, or Xander Harris – any spelling – in our database. As a John Doe, a perp, or a victim. Far as we know the kid don't exist. Now you wanna file a report, be my guest."

"Look, just… forget it, thanks for your time." Buffy sighed.

"Think Buffy, if Xander and Methos made it to civilization what would they do?"

"Find the Sanctuary, talk to that Magnus woman."

"Right, now let's do the same. Our lawyers should be able to get us out of here pretty quickly. The officer didn't have any proof of vagrancy and we all kept our mouth shut. Once we're cut loose we'll head to the Sanctuary." William said gently.

Buffy blew out a breath and nodded.

Sure enough within eight hours they were all free and clear. Buffy managed to sweet talk her lawyer out of enough cash to get them all bus fair to the first major city near Magnus' Sanctuary. No easy feat, it had required sweet talking, flirting, and finally a deadly serious promise.

"Thanks again Larry, I'll get it back to you one day, soon." Buffy insisted as the Lawyer started handing bus tickets out.

"Just keep your nose clean Ms. Summers." The Lawyer said kindly.

He watched the girls and their ringleader and lone male companion troop onto the greyhound and waved goodbye.

He sincerely hoped she would keep her nose clean. The Buffy Summers he had found in a database search was dead, had been for almost ten years, killed in a freak fire at her school something about bad wiring in the gym during a dance. Whoever that girl was if the cops ever got to her again and did their jobs competently she'd have a lot of uncomfortable questions to answer. _

Henry was freaking out, which usually meant things were on the verge of catastrophe, The Big Guy and Xander were frantically trying to lockdown the steam system before the newest abnormal inhabitant of the Sanctuary could use it to vacate and invade the steam pipe heating system of the city. Thus causing at best chaos and vast expense.

"Crap hand me that big ass wrench would yeah?" Xander grunted hauling at a long disused shut off valve's manual wheel. It was rusted shut. He slipped the handle of the massive wrench through the wheel and used the extra leverage and his body weight to bust it loose. He grunted in satisfaction as it closed.

"That's the last one Henry." He said over his radio.

"Good the little bugger should be trapped in the fourth floor showers now. Thanks, I'll let you know when we need you, better get back to those repairs Magnus requested."

"On the way boss, hey Henry?"

"Yeah Xander?"

"How'd you last so long without some help?"

"You'll never know." Henry grunted. Xander laughed and he and The Big Guy picked up their tools, Big Guy grunted and scratched at his furry face as Xander locked the door to the maintenance room behind them.

"That was close."

"No argument." Xander agreed.

Buffy was exhausted. Fighting Kim's idiocy and keeping the group together was wearing her out. Without William, Kennedy, and William the group would have splintered weeks ago. As it was they were barely holding together. This was their second day in the city and they hadn't turned up any sign of Magnus, Methos, or Xander.

"We're running out of time William." Buffy murmured as they readied for another day.

"I agree, we need to find something concrete, today." William sighed.

Buffy divided the group into teams of odd numbers, each time would then further divide into any number of evenly numbered groups with one central runner that would report in hourly to Buffy.

"Okay guys, same routine as yesterday, anything comes up before the hour mark, send the runners regardless. Word has to have gotten out by now, if they're here they'll find us or send word." Buffy declared and gestured for the group to break up. Kim was mercifully silent.

Buffy watched the angry young woman leave with her clique and felt a mixture of anger, shame, and frustration. She should have been able to talk Kim into line not allowed things to degrade to this point. Sad suddenly and fully aware of her exhaustion, battered clothing and body odor she scowled and turned to follow William to the rendezvous for the runners.

"Xander Magnus is asking for you." Will said entering Xander's nook of Henry's work area. Xander looked up from what he was tinkering with.

"Oh? Another groundshaking development?" Xander asked. Magnus' idea of momentous news versus everyone elses tended to be a bit different.

"No idea she looked excited."

"Right, lead on." Xander said standing and putting his tools down.

Magnus was speaking with Methos in a low urgent voice when Xander and Will arrived.

"What's up?" Xander asked.

Methos handed Xander a folder. Xander opened it revealing several candid CC TV photos, he let out a strangled noise of surprise and quickly paged through the photos.

"Where are they?" He demanded.

Will studied the photos over Xander's shoulder. They showed a tattered looking bunch of young women and a blonde man.

"We're tracking them down now, we wanted you to make the first contact, safer that way." Magnus said. Methos looked tense.

"Methos?" Xander asked.

"There's a good chance they'll think I took you against your will or did it deliberately, I'd rather not get beheaded by a pissed off Slayer before I have a chance to explain a few things." He pointed out.

"Right, okay where are they?" Xander asked squaring his shoulders.

"I would like Ben to act as your backup if you've no objections? Will would you accompany them? You may be able to answer any questions about us."

Will nodded, the trio of men trooped out. Magnus watched them go with fear in her heart. If these women were as powerful and dangerous as Ben had described then it was entirely possible all three would die shortly.

Buffy was crouched behind a dumpster. She was tired, shaky with hunger and for the moment content to let William watch for runners while she took a moment to rest.

"Buffy!" William hissed. She got to her feet and peered around the dumpster. William was looking down at the entrance to the alley.

"What is it?"

"I think it's Xander." William said.

Buffy hurried forward, sure enough Xander of all people was standing at the entrance to the alley.

"Xander!" She shouted. His head shot up and his face split in a wide grin. She nearly bowled him over as she raced to him and hugged him fiercely. William followed more cautiously.

"Buffy! What are you doing here?"

"Long story, Xander meet William." Buffy said happily.

Xander studied Spike/William. He had dark roots. Weird. He looked like Spike at first glance but he was…kinder, somehow more human.

"William?" Xander asked extending a hand. William took it and shook it firmly.

"What about the demon?" Xander asked Buffy.

"Trapped in our world, along with mine." Buffy said.

"Wait, you're normal?" Xander asked in shock.

Buffy nodded.

"Not to interrupt Xander but I'm sure they'd like a good meal and a shower?" Methos said from behind Xander. Will was at Methos' elbow.

"Right, uh Buffy, William you remember Methos? This is Will Zimmerman, he works with Dr. Magnus. We can take you to the Sanctuary."

"We have to wait for the others first." Buffy said and explained their situation. While they waited the quintet exchanged information.

Soon enough the runners arrived and raced back to their groups, Will contacted the Sanctuary and a bus arrived to take the entire group back. Will stood at the front with the driver while Methos and Xander took the opportunity to address the group. Xander did most of the talking.

"We're going to a safe facility, the Sanctuary, they're good people and they can help us get back home."

"There are a great deal of non-human beings at this place, NONE of them are demons and none are to be assaulted or molested in any way, remember we are going to be in their home, not the other way around. Please keep this in mind." Methos added.

"Right, no slayage girls. Any questions?" Xander asked not really expecting any.

"Yeah, what the hell is going on? Where the fuck are we?" Kim demanded.

"This is my world, you lot don't exist here, s'probably why you don't have your abilities and why Spike is different."

"Why isn't he just dead? If the demon was keeping him undead then why didn't he just turn into dust or a mass of dead meat?"

"We don't have all the answers, we might never have them all, we're concentrating on finding a way between worlds and locating your reality so we can get you all home again." Methos grunted. Will spoke quietly to the driver and they pulled into traffic curtailing further grilling.

Xander was grateful Methos had warned the group about the Sanctuary residents. The Big Guy met them at the main house and assigned rooms. The girls were nervous but cooperative, as soon as Magnus arrived and mentioned showers the nerves were replaced by eager glee.

Methos watched them file off to their quarters, chattering and excited, relieved for some kind of security. He kept a hard eye on Kim. Buffy, Willow, and Kennedy stayed behind.

"We need to talk." Buffy said to Magnus.

"Of course and as soon as possible but certainly it can wait until you've had a chance to get something to eat and some fresh clothing. We will also need to examine you all to check for infections or injuries. Some of our guests are susceptible to human illnesses."

"You don't get to turn any of us, including William into lab rats."

"Back off Buffy Helen would never do anything like that – "

"It has to be clear Methos." Buffy said softly.

"It's alright Ben, Ms. Summers is correct in her desire to clear the air. The people we see here are the most desperate kind. They are hunted and haunted by a society that is unable and unwilling to accept them, most of the people out there would rather kill them on sight than take a moment to realize that they're people like us. I understand your concerns and you have my word that all of your people will be treated with dignity and respect and receive the best care possible."

"Thank you." Buffy sighed and she sagged slightly in relief. She then allowed Xander to shepherd her and the others off to get cleaned up and fed.

"They're going to be a drain on your resources. I can make my reserves available to you." Methos offered. Magnus smiled tiredly.

"That is very generous Ben." It wasn't a no or a yes. Methos smiled at her.

"Why do you insist on calling me by that dusty name?" He asked stepping behind her and rubbing her rock hard shoulders. She sighed and leaned against him slightly.

"Because it reminds me of a gentler time Ben, a more joyful time."

Methos sighed and draped his arms over her shoulders, half embracing her.

"Don't spend too much time in that past Helen. Life is here and now."

"How do you do it?" She asked turning to face him and leaning against his warm chest.

"I take time, I mourn, and then when I'm ready I love again … in time." He said gently. He held her for a moment.

The love he'd had for her still lingered, warm coals in place of a raging bush fire. If she wanted him he would have her but he was not ready or willing to venture his heart and soul so casually again. She looked up at him and smiled.

"I'd like you and Will to be on hand when Buffy's people come in to be examined. I think your presence will reassure them, Xander as well."

"Of course, anything for the cause. What do you hope to find?"

"I've been running molecular scans on Xander's samples. There are some anomalies but not enough to indicate anything specific. I'm hoping that if I have more samples I can reach some solid conclusions."

He released her and slipped his hands into his pockets.

"Do you really think you can get them home?"

"I don't know yet. I have the heads of all the Sanctuaries working on it as well. Ideally these new samples will point us to a specific investigatory direction."

"Right, well I'll be in the mess then, making sure our little darlings leave something behind."

Methos said with a smile. At times he could smell the grief on her the raging despair roiling just under her calm façade. She'd lost her entire family her lover, their child, the hope for a future. Will and her work might fill some of that chasm but it would never heal, possibly scab over, maybe even scar but it would always be there. It took all his strength to stand there, hold her, share that grief, lest his own pain and loss over the centuries come cascading back.

He went to the gym before the mess; spent some time with a practice sword trying to banish his dark thoughts.

John is dead. He told himself. Again and again. He had thought John was dead for decades. The fact that it was true now, real, verifiable…tore at him. He had loved him. He knew that, had accepted it at the time and since but…to lsoe another lover after rediscovering him again…

His blade broke. He stared at it dully. It was hardened oak. He had broken it. He stared at the broken end.

"Little angry?" It was Kim, looked like she was ahead of the game or Methos had lost track of time. Sweat dripped from his jaw. Probably lost track of time.

Methos straightened and regarded Kim with cold eyes.

"What are you doing here?"

"Was looking for you. This is your world right?"

He nodded.

"Teach me about it."

"It's not that different from yours." He said raising the broken practice sword and balancing it on his shoulder. He stared down at Kim, her hard dark eyes not flinching from his gaze.

"Yeah but I want you to show it to me." She crooned and stepped into his space. She looked up at him and wet her lips, shifting her shoulders to accentuate her breasts and narrow waist.

Methos laughed. He couldn't help it, an uncontrolled guffaw followed by breathless laughter. Kim's features narrowed and then twisted in rage.

"Fuck you freak!" She screamed and slapped him across the face. Methos kept laughing. Tears streaming down his face.

Kim let out a harsh wailing scream and tore her shirt to the waist. Methos stopped laughing and stared at her. She worked up tears and ran from the room.

"What the fuck?" Methos muttered and followed her.

She burst into the mess and screamed again.

"He tried to rape me!" Methos' jaw dropped.

"Lying little cunt, she came on to me, I laughed at her and she staged this!" Methos roared. Buffy intervened physically stopping Methos from moving toward Kim. Helen's face was stormy.

"Kim, if this is a lie –" Buffy started.

"It's not a lie!" Kim snuffled through tears.

"Magnus, you have excellent security, bring up the video feed from the gym." Methos requested, voice thick with rage.

Helen nodded at Will.

"I'll get Henry."

"No one else leaves this room, Buffy If you could release Ben I would appreciate it. No one is a prisoner until we review the evidence at hand." Magnus said icily. Buffy stepped away from Methos. No one was comforting Kim. It looked like she'd gained more enemies than friends with her antics over the last few weeks. Kennedy and Willow were glaring at Kim.

Henry arrived and Magnus gestured for the entire group to follow them. They ended up arrayed before several large monitors. Henry used his pad to bring up the relevant feed.

"Okay, this starts when Ben came into the gym, an hour before Kim arrives, I'll fast forward through most of it." Henry started the feed. It showed an upset Methos entering, warming up, and then breaking his sword. Kim entered and Henry paused the feed.

"This took place about fifteen minutes ago, the audio should be pretty clear but if anyone has a hard time hearing it, lemme know." Henry said nervously. He hated having all those eyes on him. Especially knowing they were slayers.

The feed started at normal speed. They watched as Kim propositioned Methos and was shot down, then tore her blouse and ran from the room.

"Lying bitch!" Methos snarled.

"You can't believe that!" Kim cried.

"It seems clear enough Kim, you've lied and accused him of a terrible crime. Why? Because he scorned you? Because he said no?" William demanded. His eyes gleamed.

"I..I.."

"You're done." Methos said icily.

"Dr. Magnus, do you have a place where we can secure her for now?" Buffy asked calmly. Kim rounded on Buffy and tried strike her. Buffy effortlessly knocked her down. She might not be a full slayer but she was still a skilled fighter.

"That's two counts of assault and one of false report of rape, wanna add to your tally?" Buffy asked. Willow and Kennedy picked Kim up by the arms.

"Will can you show them to the SHU?"

Will nodded and lead the prisoner and her guards away.

"Well, that was ugly and unnecessary. You are all our guests, please do not let this ruin our potential relationship. We want to help you return to your friends and family. Now, if there are no further questions I would like an opportunity to insure your health and possibly get some answers at our infirmary."

The group filed out following Xander. Methos was fuming.

"That's it?" He demanded.

"What more do you want?" Magnus asked.

"She accused me of raping her –"

"You've never raped a woman?" Magnus asked. Methos face froze, a mask of rage.

"I know your past Ben, as much as anyone."

"Then you don't know anything." He hissed.

**A/N you may've noticed some editing of earlier chapters, largely for logic, spelling etc. These most recent have had that treatment in the interests of getting them out there for those you who've stuck around all this time. As always, notes, comments, gripes and so on feel free to pass 'em on :)**


	16. Hard Words

He dreamed.

Golden firelight. Soft skin, gentle words, quiet laughs. Soft cries of pleasure, low groans, and sighs. He woke feeling utterly alone.

He sat up, stared around the neatly furnished sterile room. His skin prickled with sweat and cold. The room felt winter cold. He peeled his blanket back and walked to the nearby window. It was wide open. The view looked down onto the rectangular grass area at the heart of the Sanctuary. It was carefully mown and emerald green. He closed the window with a shiver and turned back to his bed. It was barely dawn, he could sleep for a few more hours and no one would care.

He sat on the bed and let his fresh grief for John come. Let the tears warm his cheeks, the sobs rack his chest. Another one lost. Eventually sleep and more dreams arrived.

He was back in that firelit room, that one perfect evening that epitomized the best of their trio. Helen was in his arms, her soft back against his chest. John knelt at her feet, tickling her knees and trading looks with Ben.

He blinked and hours passed. Helen was asleep in front of the fire naked and smiling. John was wearing only a blanket staring at Helen and the fire. Ben watched the two of them, content. John turned and smiled at him, predatory, lustful.

Ben returned the smile, rose to his feet and strode to John. John stared up at Ben, dark eyes smiling. He raised a hand, Ben knelt and John cupped Ben's cheek in his broad palm.

"Such delicate beauty." John breathed. Ben laughed and kissed John's palm. John rose, chest to chest with Ben, wrapped his hands around Ben's head and kissed him savagely. Ben's breathing grew ragged and harsh as the embrace grew closer, harder.

Ben broke the kiss and stared into John's eyes.

"Do you want me?" He asked softly. By way of answer John kissed him once more, pulling him close, wrapping his strong arms around Ben's lithe torso, thrust his groin against Ben's.

He woke again. Heartsick and gutted. His groin stirred, woken and engorged by the dream memory. Tears on his cheeks. Desolate. By the light from the window it was past midday.

Someone knocked softly on his door. He didn't respond. It opened a crack and an eye peered at him. He stared at it blankly. The door opened further and Helen entered. She sat on the bed near his hip. He was naked, had kicked the blankets away during the dream, only a thin sheet covered him up to his lower ribs. He was facing Helen.

"We didn't give you any time did we?" Helen said gently. She brushed a stray lock out of his face.

"He died well Ben, for love, I..I tried to stop him but, he wouldn't have it any other way. You know John, once he made up his mind."

"He was never the Ripper, not really." Methos said quietly. Helen nodded.

"Not even he knew Ben."

Methos rolled onto his back, stared at the ceiling.

"Kim?"

"Is comfortable. Once we send them back she'll be theirs to deal with."

"Any progress?"

"That doesn't matter right now Ben." Helen chided.

He closed his eyes.

"I don't…have time to mourn. "

"Do you ever?" She asked picking up his left hand and holding it in both of hers.

He didn't answer.

"Ben, take the time, you're safe here, this is consecrated ground. You can't help them get back, right now you need to mourn, to heal."

He still remained quiet and still.

"I'll send Will with some food for you later." She offered.

"Don't bother, I'll be fine." He sighed and rolled onto his side, back to her. She sighed and rose.

"I'll be back." She promised and quietly left. He waited until his body recovered from the dream and then rose. He stood naked in front of the window staring sightlessly down at the grass. After a few minutes he dressed. Jeans, boots, long sleeve t-shirt with his characteristic baggy sweater.

He left the room, not bothering to close the door behind him and drifted through the halls of the sanctuary. It was well past dinner. He assumed most of the staff and guests were relaxing or working or sleeping. He found his way down to the SHU where the most dangerous and hostile of the Sanctuary's guests were housed. Including Kim.

Methos found her cell. A fairly large room with a neat cot and blankets a glass wall allowed the denizen to see out and observers to see in. He stood in front of it watching her. She was sleeping. She seemed very young asleep, almost a child. He wondered what had motivated her, he'd known women like her most of his life. They saw the world as perpetually hostile, used their sex, their appeal as a conquest or something to be saved to manipulate the world at large. He had rejected her, as harshly as he could. Without meaning to he had earned her enmity for life. That he had further exposed her in front of the residents and her own people had only solidified his standing as her enemy.

If they couldn't be sent back to their home, he would have to kill her or disappear. She would never forget him and was incapable of understanding let alone forgiving his actions.

He watched as she scratched her nose in her sleep. An unconscious, childish gesture. It reminded him of one of his daughters. He could see her face in his mind's eye, but he couldn't remember her name. She had loved the sweet pink berries that ripened in the summer, her mother would pick them for her and teach her how to dry them. He remembered her face smeared with pink juices, laughing as he held her in the air.

Tears wet his cheeks once more.

"Methos?" It was Will's voice. Methos turned toward the younger man. Will was holding a sheaf of papers in his hands, some kind of file. He looked surprised and concerned.

"Are…are you okay?"

Methos didn't try to speak just resumed watching Kim.

"She won't be able to get out."

"She'll never forgive me for it." Methos said.

"No, she won't, it's not in her nature." Will agreed. He stepped to Methos' side and watched Kim with him for a moment.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Methos didn't respond.

"Why did you react so violently to her accusation?"

Methos was silent for a long moment.

"Have you ever been raped?"

"No."

"I have, I've also been a rapist."

Will carefully did not react. Methos assumed Helen had given him a rundown on Methos' past. Or what she knew of it.

"Is that why you reacted the way you did?"

"I was raped first, before I became a rapist, I think that's important."

He kept staring at Kim, Will was focused solely on Methos.

"To become that…after… I was a monster, I'm sure Magnus has told you what I did, what I was… it was a way to be safe, to defend myself. If I was the monster, the darkness then nothing could ever get me. Do you understand?"

Will nodded.

"It doesn't matter if you do. Kronos. He… persuaded me to that role of thinking. You see then, if you were a stranger to a place you were subject to distrust and suspicion, it didn't take much to get you killed. A dead calf, a missing item and you were the first suspect and usually killed for it. I was a perpetual stranger, no family and since I didn't age I had to move often. I was always a stranger, always a suspect, always a victim."

"Victim?"

Methos was silent again.

"And now, because of her it's all here again, all that pain and guilt that confusion. It's all here right now and… I don't, I don't have time for it."

"Methos…I –"

"I'm fine Will." Methos interrupted and started to walk away.

"Methos, wait you can't just dump that on me and walk away, Methos!" Will called after the immortal, but he was gone.

"Shit." Will sighed.

"You're serious?" Xander asked eagerly.

Magnus smiled at him.

"Yes, if these readings are correct then we should be able to extrapolate a method with which to modify our E.M. shield to create temporary doorway to another reality, the real trick is going to be insuring that it is your reality we reach."

"Right, so…how?" Buffy asked.

"Well with Willow's help I've been able to find a key energy signature that all of you and most of your belongings have in common. Hopefully we can use that signature to zero in on your reality. It's going to take some time but it should be feasible."

"I sense a but." Buffy said.

"Yes well because we do not know how much time we will have once we've established a connection we need you all to stay nearby."

"So we're on lockdown?"

"Only temporarily, ideally we will establish a connection, confirm it is your reality and then get all of you over in one go."

"If not?"

"It may take several trips."

"Right, well then, guess we're all grounded then." Xander sighed.

"Not quite yet, we still have a week or so of tests to conduct. Until then you are free to come and go as you wish." Helen said with a smile.

"So basically best case scenario we could be home in a week?"

"It's possible but unlikely, more likely it will take quite a bit more time."

"He is extremely unstable Magnus. Look if you keep him here you have to be prepared for what that might mean-"

"Would you prefer I cut him loose? Let him fend for himself? His kind will kill him if they find him, especially in his current state. If I push him out that door that is exactly what will happen."

"I know that, but if you don't take steps to help me help him he's going to have a meltdown."

"What do you suggest Will? Medication? A padded room?"

"He spontaneously confessed to being a longterm victim of abuse and an abuser himself. What does that tell you?"

"He's in crisis, I realize that Will but until we get Xander and Buffy's people home there's not much we can do for him."

"That's a cop out Magnus, there's always some kind of emergency looming, if you don't take a few moments now then he'll become one of them."

"Will, I appreciate your input on this – "

"Helen. I don't know what I'm not saying or what I could say to get through to you. He's dangerous when he's in control okay? Think about what he could do, what could happen if he loses control."

"Will, you are correct, I promise as soon as this situation is resolved I will do what needs to be done, until then I trust you to be there for him and help him as much as you can."

"Fine." Will sighed.

Magnus watched him for a moment.

"I want you to understand that I care a great deal about Ben Will but I don't have the time, or the capacity to deal with him right now."

"Deal with him?" Will asked carefully.

Magnus was silent.

"He's not a pet Helen, or a child, he's a grown man, a very very old man that you owe an immense debt to. You've treated him badly and now he needs you to do right by him."

"Will, if you could go spend some time with him I would appreciate it, I have work to do." Magnus said coldly. She turned back to her work dismissing him. Will swallowed his frustration and left quietly.

Methos was watching TV in a common room. Or, more accurately he had the TV on. Xander was asleep in an easy chair nearby. His soft ragged snores competed with the raucous clatter from the television. Will watched Methos for a few seconds. The man's eyes weren't glazed but he stared unwatching at the screen. Blinking reflexively.

"Hey." Will said, not wanting to startle Methos. Methos' eyes drifted over to Will, looked him up and down and returned to the TV screen.

Will took that as a good sign and entered the room. He sat on the opposite end of the same couch as Methos.

The show on TV was something about meerkats. The narrator was very excited and each meerkat had an individual name. Will frowned at it.

"Are you actually watching this? 'Cause I gotta say, not that exciting." Will said rhetorically. He picked up the remote and started flipping through the channels. Methos shifted and searched through his pockets, he pulled out a cigarette lighter and a pack of cigarettes.

Will watched as he lit the cigarette and took a long drag. He stretched slightly and then sat with the cigarette in his right hand, held loosely, took the occasional drag. Will flipped through the channels until he found something mildly entertaining.

They sat like that for three hours. Methos smoked half his pack. No one spoke.

It was the most excruciatingly awkward three hours of Will's life.

Methos sat in the common room all night, through the morning and until just after lunch when his cigarettes ran out. He got up stiffly; Xander was still snoring in his recliner, and walked back to his quarters.

He sat at the foot of his bed and dug in his bag. He pulled out another pack of cigarettes and a fifth of scotch. He took them both back to the common room and sat down again.

Xander woke up around dinner time.

"Who ordered the smoked Xander?" He asked coughing. Methos took a long drag on his current cigarette and looked at Xander blankly. The half finished fifth was by his foot. Xander picked it up and took in how much was gone.

"Busy day huh? I've seen this movie, it sucks." He all but spat and left the room, leaving the bottle next to Methos on the couch.

Methos smiled slightly and took a drink.

Three weeks later Magnus found the right reality.

Buffy's people had been divided into teams, each team was responsible for getting each other through and to safety. William was staying behind. If he crossed back he'd be Spike again. Soul or no soul he didn't want that. He and Buffy had a tearful farewell and then she went through. The other teams followed, finally Kennedy, Willow, and Xander left.

"Success?" Will asked. Methos watched silently from a corner.

"It looks that way." Magnus said tiredly. Her gaze drifted from Will to Methos.

The immortal looked like shit. He hadn't slept right in weeks. He was thin, haggard, unshaven, huge black bags under his eyes. When he spoke it was to bark an order or utter an insult at best. He glared at Magnus as she met his gaze.

"Ben, we need to talk." She said softly.

"What can you possibly have to say to me?" He asked coldly.

"I asked you to do an incredibly difficult thing, and you did it cost you more than I could have imagined in the end. And I thank you."

"For what? Saving your daughter so you could watch her die? Sparing John so you could watch him die too?"

She hit him across the face as hard as she could, his cheek reddened and his nose bled briefly. He laughed at her.

"Is there anything you love that you haven't killed or destroyed?" He sneered.

"I never loved you." She said voice quavering with rage.

"And I'm still here." He snarled in return.


End file.
